Lessons Learned
by Onsecondthought
Summary: A former foe comes calling to seek revenge on Hanson for sending him to prison. Warnings for non-con, violence, and language.
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings:** This story contains M/M, rape, violence, and language. Proceed at your own risk!

Doug pulled the car up to the curb and hit the brake hard, causing Tom to nearly hit his head on the dash.

"Geeze, Doug! I'm going, I'm going! Hang on a minute, will ya?"

"C'mon…get out. It's after eleven already. I told you if I'm late getting in again Sherri's gonna kill me."

"Yeah yeah…maybe if you're lucky the little lady will let you off your leash again next weekend. If you're a good boy," Tom laughed.

"Oh ha ha…you're just jealous because you don't even have a lady to PUT you on a leash," Doug retorted.

"I don't know, man," Tom said, shaking his head and still chuckling, "she's turning you into quite the domesticated guy."

"Hey, I can go out when I want! It's just…it took me forever to convince her to move in with me, and she just…likes for me to come home on time," Doug finished, sheepishly.

"I'm just giving you a hard time. We shouldn't stay out too late anyway since we're working in the morning. I'll see you then."

"Night!" Doug called as his friend got out of the car.

Tom heard the tires squeal a little as Doug quickly pulled away from the curb, and he laughed again as he watched him drive off. He turned and headed for the steps leading up to the doorway of his townhouse on the corner. Before he could reach them, however, he was grabbed from behind. A hand clamped over his mouth while a strong arm wrapped around his body. He was pulled quickly and roughly backwards, around the corner, and into the back of a waiting car. He was shoved onto the floor, face down, and the person who had grabbed him jumped into the back seat as well. Before Tom could even start to think about what was happening, the car was speeding away.

Cramped up on the floor of the car, Tom could sense that there were two others with him. He started to raise his head to look around, but it was quickly slammed back down by someone's foot. The foot stayed put, holding his head down against the floor, and he felt more feet against his body, keeping him still. He concentrated then on listening for clues as to who might be in the car or where they might be taking him and trying to remember how long they had been driving.

After what Hanson figured was about thirty minutes, the car made several turns and slowed down. A few minutes later the car slowed to a stop and he heard the front door open as the driver got out. Both back doors opened, and the men on either side got out, but he didn't dare raise his head again for fear of another kick. After a moment, hands reached into the back seat and grabbed him roughly by the arms. He was pulled out of the car and dropped onto the ground. He started to rise up onto his hands and knees but was struck down by a vicious kick to his side. He fell back to the ground and was assaulted again with another kick. This one was powerful enough to shove him onto his side where he then received another kick, this one to his stomach.

His breath and strength gone, there was nothing for him to do but take the abuse. Kick after kick landed on his body, knocking him to and fro as he groaned in pain and tried to cover his head to protect it. When the assault finally stopped, he curled up in pain, moaning softly and hoping they were would leave. But he soon felt a boot on his shoulder, pushing him onto his back. He opened his eyes slowly, gazing up at the blurry faces staring down at him. He saw them come closer as they reached for him, grasping his shirt and pulling him to his knees.

Held firmly in their grasp, he was dragged on his knees for several feet and then thrust forward against a third man who was sitting on the seat of a picnic table. The man pushed him back into the arms of the first two men who took hold of his upper arms and held him fast. The seated man reached toward Tom, running his hand over his head seductively before grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head back. He stood up, towering over his young captive before forming a large fist with his other hand and bringing it down hard against Tom's face.

Tom felt his nose break and the blood gushing out as his face whipped to the right. The man tightened the grip on his hair, however, and brought his face back up just as his fist came down again. This time it connected with his left eye. The third time he felt his teeth rattle as his jaw was struck, and the fourth time he felt his lip split open.

Gasping for breath, his head was pulled back again to face his attacker. Lee Eckert stared down at him.

"Hey there, buddy!" Eckert shouted in Hanson's face, grinning wildly.

Tom's heart froze. He wasn't supposed to ever see Eckert again. No one was. He had been sentenced to life without parole for murdering a teenage girl. Hanson had gone undercover, befriending the man after the murder, taking on the persona of a drug-dealing, cold blooded thug who would also kill to get what he wanted. But Eckert was determined to keep his nose clean and remain anonymous in the girl's murder. It was two months before Tom was able to finally get Eckert to confide in him the details of that crime.

Eckert had been crazy with fury when he found out he had been conned by Hanson. Even as he was being arrested, he tried to get to him and would have tried to kill him with his bare hands had the officers not held him back. All through the interrogation, the trial, and the sentencing, Eckert spat out curses and threats toward the undercover officer who had deceived him. But then he was put away and that was the end of that. Or so everyone thought.

Eckert still had a hold on Tom's hair, keeping his head pulled back so that the officer couldn't help but look at him. With his other hand he grasped Tom's jaw tightly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. "Didn't expect to see me, did you?" He laughed. "Seems like another judge thought thirteen months was enough, considering I'd been coerced into confessing."

Hanson's head was aching, but his thoughts were clear enough to know that Eckert hadn't been coerced. Something wasn't right. What the hell was this guy doing out on the streets? And why hadn't anyone notified the department that he was getting out?

"Yeah, but thirteen months was long enough to learn a thing or two in there. And I have you to thank, Tommy." Eckert leaned down, his face close enough for Tom to smell his rancid breath as he said, "That's why I'm here. To show off what I learned." He let go of Tom and stepped back. "Get him up."

The other two men pulled Hanson up to his feet and held him tightly by the arms, bracing their bodies behind him. "Lesson one," Eckert said as he approached them. "There are no fair fights."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews so far! I'm not trying to get too fancy here...just a bunch of whumping, lol. But we'll see where it goes. Thanks for reading!**

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_The other two men pulled Hanson up to his feet and held him tightly by the arms, bracing their bodies behind him. "Lesson one," Eckert said as he approached them. "There are no fair fights."_

He gripped Hanson's shoulder tightly with his left hand and delivered a powerful blow to Tom's abdomen with his right. Tom grunted in pain but was being held too firmly to double over. A second punch caused his legs to go weak and he slumped a bit, but the thugs' grips kept him from falling.

Hanson was gasping, trying to replenish the precious oxygen that had been forced from him.

Eckert released his grip. "Hold him tight for me."

The hands holding Tom repositioned themselves, strongly wrapping around his arms to keep him in place. Eckert threw an uppercut to Tom's stomach and quickly followed with another. Tom's head hung as he fought to bear through the pain, but Eckert dealt him a hard blow to the face, causing his split lip to begin spurting blood again. He gasped for breath as Eckert's fist pounded his gut again.

"How's that feel, you fucking nark?" Eckert snarled as he delivered another punch to the helpless officer's body. "Huh? Does that feel good?" Another hit to his stomach. "Answer me, asshole!" His fist struck hard again, burying deep into Tom's abdomen.

Hanson was moaning now, the pain overwhelming him. "Please…" he mumbled, "…please…stop."

Eckert answered with a kick to his groin.

The two men released him, and he fell to the ground, screaming and writhing in pain. Tears leaked from his eyes as darkness swam in front of him. Eckert stood over him and delivered a hard kick to his side, then another to his back. Hanson curled up on his side as tightly as he could as the ex-convict's boot assaulted his kidneys. He reached forward, grasping at the ground, trying to pull himself away from his attacker, but a kick to the back of his head stopped him. He lay face down in the dirt, gasping and choking, trying to keep his wits about him, but the pain soon took over and his consciousness faded away.

Tom had no idea how long he had been out when he finally woke up. The only thing that he was aware of was the pain encompassing his body. Afraid to move, he slowly opened his swollen, blood encrusted eyes. It was still dark, but the full moon was overhead, illuminating the area. He could see a picnic table, but he wasn't sure if it was the one Eckert had been sitting on earlier. Trees surrounded the open area he was in, and he realized they must have brought him to some kind of park when they had abducted him from in front of his apartment.

He took shallow breaths, as deeper ones caused sharp pains that he presumed were from a broken rib or two. He was trying to think reasonably and remain calm, but he was worried about his injuries. He knew his face must be a mess, but that would heal. But his head was aching fiercely, and there was an overall deep pain in his body that he knew couldn't be good.

From his position on the ground, Hanson couldn't see anyone else in the area, but he was still cautious about moving. He lay still for several minutes, hoping against hope that they were gone, but his optimism fell as the smell of cigarettes and the sound of laughter reached his ears. They were somewhere behind him…probably at the table near the car. If he could just stay quiet long enough…if he could just pretend he was still unconscious…maybe they would get tired of waiting and leave.

Staying still should be no problem. He knew that any movement was bound to cause him more pain. He was perfectly content to stay put and wait it out. But he was so thirsty. He ran his tongue around his lips and felt the broken skin there, but no moisture. He tried to swallow and became aware of the thickness in his mouth…tasted the copper of the blood that coated it, and he gagged. He tried to stop the coughing, but his inhalation brought with it the dusty dirt his face was lying in, and he began heaving and choking. The actions brought aches and sharp pains to life in his body, and he moaned miserably as he tried to find fresh air to breathe.

Hanson closed his eyes and prayed as the choking stopped, but he knew it was too late. He felt their hands on him and he stifled a cry of pain as they pulled him to his feet. They pulled him by his arms toward the car, his feet dragging along the ground. Once they were near the car, they released him, letting him drop to the ground in a heap. He lay there, eyes closed, and heard crunching and twigs snapping as footsteps came near. He opened his eyes to see Eckert walking toward him. Fearful of another attack, he tried to curl up again.

But Eckert's plans this time did not include kicking the officer. He reached down and grabbed him by the front of the shirt, easily pulling him to his feet. He then slammed him against the side of the car, pressing his body against him to keep him still while his hand released the shirt and grabbed Hanson's jaw tightly. "You're looking a little worse for wear there, buddy," he sneered as he stared into Tom's face. "But it looks like you learned your first lesson pretty good, huh? See…I told you prison was real educational for me."

Tom tried to calm down…to even out his breathing so he wouldn't pass out again, but being upright was making him dizzy and nauseous. And his jaw was aching from Eckert's fingers pressing into it.

Eckert turned to the two men behind him and asked, "You guys ready?" They smiled and nodded. He turned his attention back to his captive, letting go of his face and placing his hand on his chest. He put his other hand behind Tom's head, running his fingers through his hair. He placed his face close to Tom as the officer tried to pull back. Eckert tangled his fingers in the soft, dark hair tightly and held his head firmly as he placed his forehead against Hanson's. Looking into his eyes, his hand slid down Tom's chest, lingering a moment before grabbing the waistband of his jeans and pulling up sharply.

Tom uttered a gasp, both of surprise and pain, as the crotch of the jeans pressed tightly against his privates.

Eckert maintained contact with Tom's forehead as he cocked his head to the side a little and whispered, "Lesson two." He pulled up higher and harder on the jeans. "Take what you want."


	3. Chapter 3

_Eckert maintained contact with Tom's forehead as he cocked his head to the side a little and whispered, "Lesson two." He pulled up higher and harder on the jeans. "Take what you want."_

"C'mere, guys," Eckert said over his shoulder. "You got the stuff?"

"Yeah," one of them answered as they approached. He handed something to Eckert, then he and the other man took their places on either side of the captive officer. They gripped his arms as Eckert stood back.

"Let's go!" Eckert commanded, and the men holding Tom pulled him away from the side of the car, turned him around, and pushed him face down over the hood. The motions were making him sick to his stomach, and he desperately fought the urge to vomit. One of the men moved away, but the other still held him by one arm, forcing Hanson down against the vehicle. He grabbed Tom by the hair and pulled his head up as Eckert approached.

"Now," Eckert said, "we can't have you attracting any attention to us, can we?" He stuffed a large, wadded up piece of material into Tom's mouth, forcing it as far back into his throat as he could. Hanson gagged on the size as much as the foul taste of whatever was on it. Eckert then took one of the lengths of thin rope he was holding and wrapped it around the young man's head twice so that it held the cloth in place. He tied it securely at the back of his head, the rope digging painfully into Tom's mouth and face. Eckert shoved Tom's head back down and grabbed his right arm, pulling it up high behind his back. The man holding Tom's left arm did the same, and Eckert wrapped the rope around tightly around his captive's wrists.

After restraining Hanson, Eckert gripped his left shoulder and pressed his body up against him. Hanson fought to breathe through his broken nose as the gag was cutting off all air supply through his mouth. He felt Eckert's body against him, and to his horror felt the pressure of something hard against his ass. _Oh God…please…get me out of here. _He lifted his head and looked around, hoping to see someone or something to help him, but there was nothing but darkness.

Satisfied that the ropes were secure, Eckert roughly turned Tom over onto his back. He moved his knee between Hanson's legs, separating them and applying pressure to the sensitive area there as he leaned over and began to caress Tom's hair and face.

Hanson was feeling sicker by the minute. Besides the pain from his injuries, he was growing more and more frightened about what Eckert might do to him. His breathing was becoming laborious, and his stomach was twisting into knots. His split lip had begun to bleed again, soaking the cloth that was in his mouth.

Eckert could see the apprehension in Tom's eyes as he stared at him fearfully. He could sense the panic rising as the officer struggled to breathe. He could feel him try to maneuver away from Eckert's unwanted touches, but he was held down securely by one of the other men. Eckert's excitement grew with the anticipation of what was to come.

"Now, now…" Eckert cooed as he ran his fingers along the bruised flesh of Tom's face and down along his neck. "Don't be scared. Remember, it's why you sent me to prison, right? To learn my lesson?" He laughed a little before bringing his face down close to Tom's and putting his tongue out, sliding it along Tom's jaw from his chin to his ear, leaving a putrid wet, sticky trail. He reached Tom's ear and bit gently on the lobe, then ran his tongue around the inside, breathing heavily into it and whispering huskily, "I need to teach you a lesson."

Hanson whimpered and turned his head to the side, trying to pull away, but Eckert's tongue continued its journey, moving down his exposed neck. Eckert began to suck and bite at the tender skin there, moaning softly as his did and placing a hand between Tom's legs, firmly grasping and rubbing the denim covered crotch.

Tom was still whimpering and squirming, trying to get away from the unwelcome touches, but this only seemed to encourage his assailant. Helplessness overtook him and the tears came. He wept quietly as Eckert's mouth moved all over his neck, biting and sucking, leaving his mark wherever it went. Hanson managed to catch the eye of the other man who was holding him down by the shoulders, but the eyes were void of any compassion, and so he simply turned his gaze to the heavens, staring blankly at the sky as the assault continued.

Eckert finished smothering Tom's neck with his mouth, leaving it covered with dark marks. "Got you all worked up, don't I, boy?" he said as he gripped Tom's crotch tighter. Eckert moved his hand to the waistband of Tom's jeans, hooking his fingers inside as his other hand began to unhook the leather belt surrounding the young man's waist.

Hanson's heart froze as the dark thoughts that had been hiding in the back of his mind suddenly burst forward. He shook his head. _No…no…this isn't happening…please. _He began to writhe below Eckert, trying to get away from the prying hands and offering up muffled pleas through the cloth in his mouth.

"Settle down…you're gonna like this," Eckert said calmly as he slid one hand firmly up Hanson's chest.

But Tom's panic overtook him. He fought harder and began screaming into the gag.

Eckert had had enough. He used both hands to grab Tom by the shirtfront, pulled him up, and then slammed him back down hard against the hood of the car. "STOP moving, motherfucker!" He pushed away the other man who had been helping to hold the captive man. "Get the fuck away! I'll take care of him!" He jerked Hanson up slammed him down again.

Tom was crying hard now, crazy with fear and desperate to get away. He continued to struggle, even though these newest blows had him teetering on the edge of consciousness. Eckert grabbed Tom's throat with one hand and squeezed it, pushing down hard. Tom began to see dark spots in front of his eyes as both his air and the blood circulation to his brain were cut off, but there was no mistaking the sight of Eckert's other hand as he brought it up quickly, holding a small handgun that he instantly pressed against the side of Hanson's head.

"I said stop moving, asshole!" he shouted into Tom's face. "Or I'll take this gun and blow your fucking cop brains all over this car! Now STOP moving!"

The gun pressed harder against Tom's head and he heard the click as Eckert switched the safety off. He tried his best to stay still, but still his body heaved with the effort to breathe. Eckert let go of Hanson's throat and ran the barrel of the gun slowly down his face until he reached the rope that was holding the gag in place. He followed the rope with the gun until he reached Tom's mouth, forcing the barrel into it as he whispered, "Good boy. Now…let's try this again, shall we?"

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**This felt kind of short, but I wanted to get it published so I went ahead and put it up. Sorry to drag this out so long. Or maybe not. That's part of the fun, isn't it? :-) Another update soon, I promise! Thanks for reading and reviewing!  
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	4. Chapter 4

**Warning! This chapter is graphic and violent. Proceed at your own risk. And enjoy! ;-)**

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_Eckert let go of Hanson's throat and ran the barrel of the gun slowly down his face until he reached the rope that was holding the gag in place. He followed the rope with the gun until he reached Tom's mouth, forcing the barrel into it as he whispered, "Good boy. Now…let's try this again, shall we?"  
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Tom closed his eyes as he felt the gun invade his mouth. He had realized all along that he was not going to get out of this situation unscathed. But now the threat of death had suddenly become all too real. Whatever was to happen to him, he prayed that he could at least make it out alive.

Eckert removed the gun from Hanson's mouth and gave it to one of his buddies. "Keep it handy in case this fucker gives me any more trouble." He leaned over Tom's body and brushed the hair out of his eyes. "You gonna give me any more trouble? Huh, asshole?"

Hanson opened his eyes and looked up at his captor. Fighting back the tears, he slowly shook his head.

"Good." He continued to stroke Tom's head and moved his mouth down the young man's neck again and then back up to his ear. He pressed his lips to Tom's ear and whispered gutturally, "I been dreaming about this." His hand moved down to Tom's belt as he continued, "You're just about the prettiest thing I've seen in a long time."

Tom uttered small sounds of despair as Eckert's weight bore down on him and he felt the larger man's hand unbuckling his belt and working on the button of his jeans. Next came the zipper, sliding down slowly.

But Eckert did not go further after undoing the pants. Instead, he pulled Tom up and turned him around, shoving him face down onto the hood again. He gestured to one of his partners. "C'mere. Hold him down. Do a good job and I might let you have a go at him too," he laughed. He slapped Tom on the back. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He leaned over, grabbing a fistful of Hanson's hair, and roughly pulled his head up to face him. "See, that's what it's like in there. YOU…" he shouted, "…YOU don't get to decide who has a go at you! And you have no idea what that's like, do you, you little son of a bitch?" Eckert pulled Tom's head back even farther. "Look at you! You get everything you want, don't you? You got that pretty little face that makes everyone do whatever you want, don't you? Well not this time!" He slammed Tom's head back down against the car, turning his face to the side. "Not this time!"

Tom was getting more and more dazed by the rough treatment, his head still aching deeply. His nose had begun to bleed once more, and the pain in his bruised face was coming alive again. The rope around his head was cutting into the skin around his mouth, and he could feel blood on his hands from the tight restraints on his wrists. But worse than the pain was the fear. Eckert's buddy was holding him down now, and he could hear the sound of Eckert's belt coming undone and his zipper going down. He felt Eckert's hands on his hips, grasping his jeans, and suddenly they were pulled down to his knees, his shorts going with them.

Tom's level of panic began to rise rapidly. _Oh God…no…no…he's really doing this. _He was pinned tightly against the car by Eckert's buddy and was having trouble breathing. He sensed Eckert approaching him from behind and felt his hands sliding up his back, pushing his t-shirt up.

Eckert pressed himself against Hanson's backside and let his hands roam over the young man's back. He slid his left hand under Tom's body, grasping his torso firmly while his right hand moved under as well and then wandered down to Tom's crotch.

Tom began whimpering as Eckert caressed his skin. When the man's hand reached to grasp his cock, he flinched and began to struggle furiously, trying to get away. He was crying in earnest now, screaming into his gag for the man to stop, but it only encouraged his assailant. Eckert grinned and laughed as he watched Hanson's futile efforts, and he continued to fondle the officer's genitals. Things were going better than he had expected, and he was enjoying himself immensely.

"Feels good, doesn't it, Tommy?" Eckert cooed. His own cock had grown hard and was straining to rise erect between the two men's bodies.

Tom was trying to cry out again, his pleas of "no" muffled by the rag in his mouth. He twisted and turned, trying to work his way out from under the two thugs above him and pulled as hard as he could, trying to get his hands free from their restraints. But his attempt only managed to cause the rope to cut further into his wrists. The burning pain there was terrible, yet he continued to pull. He would gladly have a hand cut off if it meant escaping this horror.

Eckert released his hold on Hanson's torso and clamped a hand down on his shoulder. "Easy there, pal," he laughed, "you're gonna hurt yourself." He began to grind himself against Tom's ass. "Just relax…" he moaned as he felt his cock becoming even harder. "You'll like this…I promise." He reached down and grabbed his cock, holding it tightly and wielding it like a weapon. It was already leaking and ready. He rubbed the head with his thumb, spreading the pre-cum over it and relishing in the sensation. He gestured to his partner and instructed, "Hold him still for me."

The other man tightened his grip on Tom's arm and moved farther over him to use his weight as leverage to keep the captive in place. Tom sensed Eckert moving into place behind him and felt him positioning his cock against him. _No…oh God no please…please…stop…make him stop! _He again fought to get loose and caught Eckert's buddy off guard, managing to slip out from under him and rise up. But before he could even try to extract himself from Eckert's hold, he found himself being grabbed by the back of the neck and flung back down.

"Son of a BITCH!" Eckert yelled at his partner as he held Tom down by the neck. "You dumb motherfuckin' son of a bitch! I said hold him STILL!" He turned his attention to Hanson. "And you…" he growled as he tightened his hold on Tom's neck. "I swear to God if you fucking move one more time I'm gonna stick that gun down your throat and pull the trigger!" He pulled Tom's head up and slammed his face against the hood twice, then leaned over, putting his face up to Tom's and spat out, "Now you fucking STAY there! This IS going to happen!"

There was no need for Eckert to worry about Tom trying to escape again, for those last blows to his head had nearly knocked him out. Now Eckert's helper, fearful of screwing up again, was practically on top of Hanson, putting all of his weight behind him as he dug an elbow into Tom's back and held his head down with his other arm.

Tom lay passively on the car as tears rolled down his face. He tried to remain calm and to concentrate on his breathing, but the overwhelming feeling of helplessness was taking its toll. The pains from his initial beating were coming to life again, and the more recent strikes to his head and face had left his mind in a daze. He whimpered softly as Eckert resumed his assault.

Eckert grasped his own cock again which had grown even fuller and harder as he had raged at the others. The anger and violence were turning him on, and he wasted no time in getting started. He was pleased to see that Tom appeared to finally be complying. He approached the defenseless young man, found his target, and took aim. Tom started to squirm and his whimpering grew louder as Eckert started to push his cock slowly into Tom's body. Eckert paused and moaned at the tight sensation surrounding the head of his cock. He closed his eyes and started to rock back and forth, moving in and out just a little at a time. But soon his urges overtook him, and he gathered his strength and put it all behind one violent thrust, driving his cock hard and fast completely into Tom's ass with a loud groan.

At the brutal invasion, Hanson let out a long, horrible wail that even the gag could not contain. The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt before, reaching far into places he didn't even know were there. Eckert's cock was buried deep inside of him and yet the man continued to push further against him. Tom's cry ended with deep sobs and gasps as he tried to breathe. _Please…please._

"Ain't that somethin'?!" Eckert crowed behind Hanson. "You fucked me; now I'm fucking you!" He laughed wildly and pulled himself almost out of the smaller body beneath him. Tom moaned with some relief as the offending thing was nearly removed, but he shrieked as Eckert rammed him violently again. The pain was unbearable as Eckert pushed harder, determined to get every possible inch of himself into the young man's trembling body.

Tom cried softly, nearly choking on the rag in his mouth which was now soaked with saliva and blood. _No, no, no, please…no more. _Eckert's pal was leaning heavily on him, crushing his chest against the car, making it nearly impossible to get any air into his lungs. His ribs, back, and stomach were hurting intensely as well, but the pain from Eckert's current assault was indescribable.

"Oh man…fuck! This is so sweet," Eckert sighed as he withdrew and entered Tom again. "Mmmm…anybody ever tell you what a fine piece of ass you are?" He pulled out and drove into Tom brutally again. "You're new at this, huh? Got a lot of blood here." He groaned as he continued to move his hard, thick cock in and out, taking his time. He reached down to grab Hanson's cock and found that it was hard as well. He paused inside the officer's body as he gripped the cock tightly. "Damn! You're getting off on this, aren't you?!" He laughed and slapped Hanson on the ass. He leaned over and whispered into Tom's ear, "I knew you'd like it." He stroked Tom's hair as he continued, "What a good boy. You're learning fast." He began fucking Tom again slowly while rubbing the young man's cock in time with his thrusts.

Tom had been growing weaker and weaker as the assault went on, trying to make his mind blank and just praying for it to end soon. But he jumped when Eckert grabbed him down below and was mortified when he felt his body responding to the touch. _God…oh fuck…Jesus…I…that can't be…oh my God. _He didn't like this. He didn't. Why was his body betraying him? He tried to find the strength to struggle again, hoping this time Eckert would just kill him and get it over with. He wanted this to end. But he lay there weakly, unable to resist, as Eckert's hand brought him closer and closer to the edge. _God no…I don't want this…I don't…please._

Eckert felt his own orgasm rising but stopped his movements before giving in to it. He paused, buried to the hilt inside of Tom, and increased the movement of his hand on Tom's cock. He clutched it tightly and pulled, fast and furiously.

Against his will, Tom felt the familiar tingling coming on as his body stiffened and shook slightly. _This isn't happening. _He groaned involuntarily as waves of displaced pleasure ran through his abused and sore body.

As he felt Hanson's body go rigid, Eckert moved his hand to catch the cum as it streamed out. He pulled his cock out of the tight hole and rubbed some of the semen on it, mixing it with the blood there, then smearing the mixture across Tom's face.

Tom recoiled at the touch, utterly ashamed that he had climaxed during this horrific ordeal. But at least Eckert had withdrawn from him. The pain still burned deep inside, but he prayed that it was over.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you, you little pervert?" Eckert growled. "Felt good, didn't it, blowing your wad with my dick up your scrawny ass?" He rubbed his cock which was now well lubricated and throbbing. "Well guess what?" He leaned over Tom's body, whispering into his ear, "We ain't done yet."

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**I honestly meant to keep going with this one to a certain point, but it was getting really long and involved, and if I had kept going it would have been several more days before it would be ready. So I present this much to you now. Sorry for another cliffhanger! Please let a review if you're so inclined. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Warnings for more violence and graphic content.**

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"_You enjoyed that, didn't you, you little pervert?" Eckert growled. "Felt good, didn't it, blowing your wad with my dick up your scrawny ass?" He rubbed his cock which was now well lubricated and throbbing. "Well guess what?" He leaned over Tom's body, whispering into his ear, "We ain't done yet." _

Tom wept quietly at the words. He didn't think he could take much more of this before either his mind or his body broke. He picked a point on the car's windshield and focused on it, staring intently as he tried to imagine being home, safe and secure, doing anything at all except this. Anywhere but here. Anything but this.

Eckert slid his hand up and down his long, hard cock, preparing it for the next round. "You think you're pretty smart, don't you, you fucking nark? You screwed around with me for two fucking months. That deserves a little payback, don't ya think?" He gripped his cock tightly and took his position. He penetrated Tom with a vicious shove, sheathing himself entirely within the young man's body.

The pain inside of Tom was renewed with a vengeance, and he cried out pitifully again. Eckert had paused inside of him, but now he was withdrawing and re-entering Tom quickly and harshly. Tom was getting nauseous from the motion and prayed he wouldn't vomit with the gag in his mouth. The pain and hopelessness became too much, and his weak cries turned into strong sobs.

"Awww…" Eckert mocked, "poor baby's crying. What's the matter? Can't take it like a man?" He sped up his movements, running his cock in and out of the officer like a piston. "You need your mommy to come kiss it and make it better?" He laughed as he continued to fuck Hanson harder.

Hanson's sobs soon dissolved into soft whimpers, and he tried to beg his assailant to please stop…to please let him go. But his muffled pleas earned him nothing but a slap on the head and a "Shut the fuck up!" He was exhausted, his body and mind pushed way beyond their limits. Eckert's voice seemed farther away now, his words muted and running together, forming incoherent sentences. Tom's focus point on the windshield was beginning to move, starting to spiral and fade in and out. He felt himself becoming blissfully unaware of what was happening, and he sighed gratefully as darkness and numbness gradually overtook him. But his relief was short-lived.

"Oh no…no you don't!" Eckert growled as he saw Tom fading away. "Don't you dare pass out on me, motherfucker!" He pushed his partner away. "Get off him, asshole! Does he look like he's going anywhere now?!" He grabbed Hanson by the hair and roughly pulled him up, then slapped him hard across the face. "You have this coming to you, motherfucker!" He slapped him again. "You fucking stay awake, you hear me?!" He shoved Tom back down. "You were big enough of a man to fuck with me before, weren't you?! Huh?! Now there's a fucking price to pay for that! Screwed around with me and lied to me, didn't you, you son of a bitch?!" He continued his brutal assault with a renewed vigor. "Nobody fucks with me and gets away with it! Nobody!"

The slaps and increased intensity of the attack brought Tom back to full consciousness. _God…please…it's enough…please make it stop. _ Eckert was ramming him so hard now that the car was moving with every violent thrust. _Please. _He moaned in pain, crying weakly again.

Eckert had begun to moan as well, but not from pain. He was reaching new levels of pleasure with every stroke of his cock in and out of the captive officer. He closed his eyes and held Tom down by the neck with one hand while the other gripped the young man's hip tightly. Eckert continued his furious thrusts as his body went rigid and he felt his legs begin to tremble. He gave a final, hard shove into Hanson and groaned loudly as his body shuddered and his cock pulsated wildly deep inside the other man. He let out a strangled cry as his orgasm overtook him. His cock throbbed as he ejaculated, and he then collapsed heavily onto Tom.

Hanson gasped and his eyes flew open wide as he felt the warm fluid filling him. It was a disgusting feeling…dirty…shameful. Eckert's cock was still buried inside of him as his attacker fell over him, sweaty and panting.

"Mmmm…" Eckert moaned as he began licking and biting the back of Tom's neck. "That was hot…you're so fucking hot!" He grunted as he pushed himself up and slid his cock out of Tom's ass. Finally limp, it was still slick with blood and semen. He reached down and grasped Tom's jeans and shorts, then pulled them up, pausing to use the boxers to wipe off his wet cock. He then finished bringing the clothing up over Tom's hips.

Hanson could hear the sound of a zipper as Eckert pulled his own jeans back up and fastened them. The sound was like music to his ears, hopefully signaling the end of this horrific nightmare. It didn't matter what the ex-convict did to him now. Nothing could be worse than what he had just endured. Being let go or being killed…he wasn't sure which one would bring him the greatest relief, and right now he would welcome either of those options.

Tom flinched as Eckert put his hands on his shoulders and then flipped him over onto his back. He looked up at the night sky and saw that the moon had moved across it considerably since earlier, and he wondered just how long they had been out here. It seemed that this night could go on forever. He continued to stare at the sky as he felt Eckert button and zip up his jeans.

"There ya go! Can't have you hanging out all over the place now, can we?!" Eckert laughed heartily as he finished fastening the younger man's pants and then slapped Tom on the chest.

_Please…just let it be over now…please._

Eckert leaned over and took Tom's chin in his hand, turning his head to face him. "You did good…real good, buddy," he said as he stroked Tom's hair and face. He leaned over and put his face in the crook of Tom's neck, nuzzling and licking it as he moaned, "Mmmm…you taste as sweet as you look. Got all sweaty, didn't you?" He stood back up and laughed. "Never knew learning could be so fun, did you, Tommy? Yeah…I had fun too." His face grew serious. "But all good things must come to an end, right?" He turned and called over his shoulder, "C'mon, guys! Let's finish this up!"

Tom blinked back tears as he stared up at the man. This was it. It was over. Relief. He was finally going to get relief.

Eckert grabbed Tom by the arm and jerked him up off of the car. He pushed him forward, and Tom staggered a moment before dropping hard to his knees. With his hands still bound behind him and his exhaustion overcoming him, there was nothing he could do next but fall flat on his face in the dirt. He lay there panting, eyes closed, willing the men to just go away. _Leave me alone now…please…just go away…please…tired…I'm so tired._

"Go ahead."

Hanson winced at the words, then began to cry quietly again. But he refused to open his eyes as they attacked him once more. He felt a hard kick connect with his left side, then another on his right. His body rolled with the assault as they continued to batter him from both sides. _Get it over with…just get it over with. _One boot caught him under the chin, and as he reeled from the blow another landed squarely and brutally in his vulnerable midsection. Tom's world was whirling…fading away from him, along with his life, he feared. He felt another vicious kick to his stomach, a heavy foot connecting with his back, and then he was lying face down again, the dirt making sticky mud tracks on his tear stained face.

"That's enough. C'mon…it's time."

Hanson felt their hands on him, one on either side, grasping his arms and pulling him to his knees. He felt a hand on his head and opened his eyes to see Eckert crouching in front of him. Unable to speak, Tom pleaded with his eyes. _Please…make it be over…just make it be over…please. _

Eckert tousled Tom's hair as he stared at him. "This was fun, Tommy…real fun." He laughed a small laugh as he raised his other hand which now held the small handgun. "I think I'm really gonna miss you." He looked up at his buddies. "Let's do this."

_It's over…that's it…it's over. _The men were pulling him…dragging him on his knees across the open area toward the trees. As much as he craved relief from the terrible pain he was in, he didn't really want to die. But he didn't struggle. His body was limp with quiet acceptance as he was pulled along. Still, he wept softly as he thought of his friends and family. His mother…who would tell his mother? _I'm sorry…I'm so sorry, mom. _He didn't want her to see him like this. He prayed they would never find him. _I'm so sorry._

"Over here! Bring him over here."

The men dragged Tom toward Eckert's voice, and he raised his head to see the ex-convict illuminated in moonlight, standing next to a dumpster just inside the tree line. He was pulled behind it and dropped unceremoniously among the remnants of someone's picnic. He could smell the rancid leftovers and garbage strewn around him, and he heard beer cans scattering as Eckert made his way over to him.

Eckert reached down and flipped Tom over onto his back. He squatted down beside him and looked into his eyes, searching for the fear and the pain. But the eyes were empty…mere shells of what were once lively and vibrant orbs shining with passion and spirit. He grabbed the young man by the shirt front and pulled his upper body off the ground. With his other hand he brought the gun up and put it against Tom's forehead.

Tom closed his eyes and waited, trembling despite trying desperately not to. The gun pressed harder against his head.

"Praying, are ya, Tommy?" Eckert inquired sarcastically. "A little late for that, don't ya think? You should have prayed before you got into this mess…before you decided to start screwing with me. It's too late, man. God ain't gonna help you now."

_Please…just don't let them find me. She'll never know what happened. Let her be okay…help her…please. _He hurt so badly. He was dying anyway, and he knew it. _Just get it over with._

"Open your eyes." When Tom did not comply, Eckert shook him and repeated the command. "Open your eyes, motherfucker!"

Slowly, Tom did as he was told and looked at Eckert.

"It's over. Done. Are you ready to die now? Huh?" Eckert brandished the gun in front of Tom's face, then pressed it into the hollow of his throat.

_Just do it._

Eckert pressed harder. "One shot, man. Quick and painless. Right?" Suddenly, he began laughing wildly and pulled the gun back. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, cop?"

Hanson thought he must be dreaming. One minute Eckert was in his face about to blow him away and the next he was cackling like a madman and waving the gun around frantically.

Eckert still held Tom firmly by the shirt. He stopped laughing and turned serious again as he addressed his captive. "You ain't getting off that easy."

Tom didn't think he could take much more of this. What kind of game was this lunatic playing?

Eckert pulled Tom up so their faces were almost touching. "Guess what? I'm not going to kill you." He laughed again. "Know why? Huh?" He tightened his grip. "Because I want you to remember this. I want you to remember it every fucking day of your sorry life. And I want you to wake up screaming every fucking night after dreaming about it. And most of all…I want you to know I'm out here…" He raised the gun high over his head. "…and I can do it again." He brought the gun down hard, connecting solidly with the side of Tom's head.

Hanson heard the words and felt despair like he had never felt before. _This is never going to end...never. _He saw the gun coming down fast, and everything went black.

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**Thanks again so much for reading and especially reviewing! There is more to come, of course. Hope you're enjoying it!**


	6. Chapter 6

_Hanson heard the words and felt despair like he had never felt before. This is never going to end...never. He saw the gun coming down fast, and everything went black._

"Penhall!"

Doug jerked his head up from his desk at the sound of his supervisor bellowing his name across the chapel. "What?! What?! I'm awake!" he answered groggily, a piece of paper stuck to his face.

Captain Adam Fuller approached the desk and looked down at Doug as he tried to quickly comb his hair with his fingers. Satisfied with the result, he looked up at his captain and smiled. "What can I do for you, Cap'n?"

"Where the hell is Hanson? It's almost eight!"

Doug looked around, befuddled. "Ummmm…he's not here?"

Fuller rolled his eyes. "Doug, where the hell have YOU been for the past 45 minutes? No! He's not here!"

"Huh." Doug looked confused. "I don't know. We went out last night. I dropped him off at his place just after eleven."

"Well find him," the captain said pointedly. "And fast. I need you guys on a case today, not out on some scavenger hunt." He walked back to his office, leaving a yawning Penhall behind.

Doug got himself a cup of coffee and then sat down to call his partner. There was no answer at the house, only a generic answering machine message and a beep. "Hey, man!" Doug said. "Are you there?" He paused. "WAKE UP!!" He waited a minute, and after getting no response said "Call me," and hung up.

Next he called Tom's cell phone. After several rings he again got a greeting asking him to leave a message. "Hanson, where are you, man? Fuller is _pissed_. Call me…or better yet, get your ass in here ASAP."

About a half an hour later, Doug was finishing up some paperwork when Captain Fuller came out of his office and approached him again. "Any word?"

Doug looked up. "On what?"

Fuller sighed and stared down at him. "Hanson. Where is he?" he said evenly, trying to keep from reaching across the desk and throttling the oblivious man sitting there.

"Oh yeah! Couldn't reach him at home or on his cell, but I left messages for him to call me." He looked up at the captain brightly.

"And?"

"Nothing yet," Doug replied.

"Doug, he's almost two hours late now, I have a case sitting on my desk with no one working on it, and you're not helping!" Fuller's exasperation was quickly turning to anger.

Penhall cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his chair.

"Now get out there and FIND him! Check his house, call his mom…I don't care WHAT you do, just get him in here!" Fuller exclaimed and then stormed back to his office, slamming the door behind him.

An hour and a half later, Doug appeared at Fuller's office door, knocking tentatively before sticking his head in the room. "Uh…Cap'n?"

"If you aren't here to say you found him, then I don't want to hear it," Fuller answered without looking up from his desk.

Doug entered the office and looked at Fuller. "I went over to his place. His car's there…same place where it was parked last night. I let myself into the apartment. He's not there. It looks like he wasn't there this morning. I mean…no signs of a shower or making breakfast or anything." He spoke slowly and quietly, his cheerful demeanor from earlier now fading. "I called his mom too. I didn't want to. I shouldn't have. Now she's worried…" He paused. "Anyway, she hasn't heard from him."

As Doug filled him in, Fuller sat back in his chair and watched the young man. Doug was worried. Fuller could see that. And quite frankly, he was becoming more than a little concerned himself.

* * *

Why wouldn't he die?

Hanson asked himself that question every time he woke up shivering on the cold ground. He had slowly regained consciousness every hour or so, blissfully pain-free in the first seconds of waking. But the pain always came, gradually creeping up on him and encompassing his body, reminding him of where he was and what had happened to him.

This time, like every time before, he asked himself that question. Why wouldn't he die? First Eckert and now God was torturing him, toying with him, playing with him like a cat with a mouse until the poor mouse finally gives in and lies there waiting to be killed. Tom was past that point. He had been lying there for hours waiting to die. But God wasn't done playing with him yet.

He struggled to open his eyes, but the left one would not cooperate. His right lid rose slowly, breaking the seal of dried tears and blood that was crusted there. It was lighter out now. Morning was coming on, and he could hear birds singing in the trees. He was lying on his right side, his knees brought up in a semi-fetal position, and his arms still bound behind his back. He couldn't even feel them anymore. He let out a small moan as the pains in his body came alive again. His head throbbed, and his jaw was aching from the gag forcing his mouth open for so long. The rest of his body was a myriad of sharp and dull pains, especially his ribs and stomach which were causing him considerable distress with every breath he took. And then there was that other pain, the indescribable one that was unlike any other he had ever experienced. He tried to put that one out of his mind…to not think of what kind of damage Eckert might have done to him there. But the thoughts and the pain were demanding to be heard, and the tears came as he started to slowly fade away again.

Before the peace of unconsciousness took over, however, he was jarred by a sudden vibration in his front jeans pocket. Frightened and confused, he whimpered and tried to curl up tighter, trying to hide from whatever it was that was surely about to hurt him again. But as the vibration continued in a regular beat, he realized it was his cell phone. Someone was looking for him. He was filled with mixed emotions at that thought. For hours now he had been sure he was destined to die out here alone, left among the garbage. And he had accepted that…made peace with it. But now, a small glimmer of hope sparked inside of him. Maybe, just maybe, he could survive this. As the phone went silent again, he drifted off once more.

* * *

By noon, approximately 2 hours after Penhall had reported to Captain Fuller that Hanson was nowhere to be found at his apartment, nor had his mother heard from him, the captain notified Chief Pat Owens that they might have a problem.

"He's not missing, Fuller! Not officially. Not for 24 hours."

"With all due respect, sir, he's a conscientious police officer who is five hours late reporting for duty and is nowhere to be found and not answering his phone," the captain replied.

"And he's got a wild streak in him," Owens countered. "This wouldn't be the first time he's taken off on his own without letting you know, now would it?"

Fuller had to agree that the chief was right. But somehow this time it felt different. He sighed. "Could we just…"

"I'm not giving you an army of officers to go chasing this kid down, Fuller. Not unless I know something is wrong."

Fuller threw up his hands in exasperation. "All I'm asking is…just let us use the AV tech to track his phone. Then we'll check it out…see what we can find."

Chief Owens looked at the other man as he contemplated the request. "Fine!" he said. "Track the phone…track him down…whatever! But you've got two hours, Captain. Two hours. I don't want you traipsing off on an all day wild goose chase."

"Thank you, sir."

"Take just one of your team with you. And I'll give you one car, two uniforms…that's it. Now get out of here."

* * *

No one was coming for him.

He was sure of it now. The sun was getting higher overhead, moving across the sky and causing the shadows from the trees to move as well. The sunlight was too hot and the shade was too cold. He was the epitome of misery. The time he spent being unconscious was becoming longer and longer. The time he spent awake became more and more disorienting.

Tom lay as he had for hours. His breathing was becoming more shallow, although he did not take notice. The pain in his heart outweighed the pain in his body now. He had allowed himself that one small flicker of hope when his phone rang, but it was proving to be unfounded. No one was coming. He couldn't even cry anymore. The tears wouldn't come. He was so thirsty, the gag in his mouth dry now and caked with blood and saliva. The blood on his wrists and around the rope on his face was clotted as well, forming a sickening stickiness there. Somewhere in the trees, he heard a mourning dove calling, and he closed his eyes.

* * *

"Okay, JT, do your stuff."

Doug handed over the information card to the AV tech. He watched as JT input the data into the computer.

"You know this may not pinpoint the spot exactly, right?" JT asked. "It depends on a lot of factors…how populated the area is, how many transmission towers are in the area…stuff like that."

"Yeah, I know," Doug responded. "Just give me what you can. It's a start."

JT finished inputting the information and began processing it, watching as the tower locations popped up on the screen. "Triangulating now…" he said. "There!"

Doug leaned over the tech's shoulder and peered at the screen. "What? Where? What's it mean?"

JT switched the display to satellite with a road marker overlay. "The signal's coming from somewhere in here." He pointed at the screen. "Lotus Park, out on State Road 27."

"Print it out."

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**I hope you're all still reading and liking it. Sorry this update was so long in coming, but I was working on another project. The next update should come quicker. In the meantime, you could pass the time away by leaving a review. :-D Thanks!!**


	7. Chapter 7

_JT switched the display to satellite with a road marker overlay. "The signal's coming from somewhere in here." He pointed at the screen. "Lotus Park, out on State Road 27."_

"_Print it out."_

Doug snatched the paper off of the printer and ran out of the room. He pulled out his cell phone and called Captain Fuller as he headed out of the building and toward his car. "Cap'n! I got it! The signal's coming from Lotus Park, about a mile inside the East entrance. There's no reason for him to be out there. He's gotta be in trouble!" He jumped into his car and fastened his seat belt.

"Calm down, Doug," Fuller replied. "It might just be the phone…doesn't mean he's with it. He could be somewhere else and somebody ditched the phone out there."

"All right…all right…let's just hurry anyway. I'll be there in five."

"I'll be waiting out front. And I'll go ahead and send the uniforms on out too."

* * *

The early afternoon sun shone brightly as Penhall and Fuller drove out State Road 27 toward the park. Neither man spoke much during the drive, each lost in his own thoughts. But if they had spoken, they would have said the same thing. They both hoped they would find their colleague at the park, but they both also hoped that they wouldn't.

"There…on the left…East entrance." Fuller pointed across the road and Doug made the turn. Fuller had the map printout from JT, and he read aloud the directions to their focus spot, the Beech Grove picnic area.

The car wound through the twisted, tree lined road, deep into the park. Arriving at their destination, they saw that the patrol car officers were already there waiting for them. Doug parked the car, and he and Fuller got out and looked around the area.

It was a large recreation area. The parking lot had room for approximately 20 cars. There were two shelters as well as three distinct picnic areas. A small playground took up a section in the middle, and barbeque grills dotted the vicinity.

"All right, guys, here's what we've got," Fuller said as he spread the map out on the nearest picnic table. "JT narrowed the cell signal down to here." He pointed to a dot on the map. "That looks like it's about…" He shaded his eyes as he scanned the region. "There. Near Shelter Two. Let's start there and radiate out."

As they strode across the field toward the shelter, Doug looked at Fuller. "Hey…Cap'n," he said hesitantly. "Umm…Chief gave us two hours. We're gonna go over that."

Without breaking stride, the captain answered, "Screw him."

* * *

A half an hour later, the radius of their search had grown considerably. Penhall repeatedly made calls to Tom's phone, hoping one of them would hear it ringing somewhere, but so far they had not heard anything. The men also called out their colleague's name but had received no response.

Doug was checking the perimeter of Shelter One when suddenly he heard one of the uniformed officers shout, "Here! Over here! I got him!" Doug looked up to see Officer Barrett across the field near a dumpster in one of the picnic areas. He had one arm raised in the air and was on his radio with the other. Doug began to run toward him and saw Fuller and Officer Jeffries doing the same.

Doug was the last to arrive, skidding to a halt and trying to catch his breath as he took in the sight before him. Barrett had just finished putting in the call for back up, and Jeffries was running back to the patrol car to bring it over to the scene. Captain Fuller was already crouched down next to the body on the ground, his fingers pressed against Tom's neck.

And Tom….Doug tried to rationalize what he was seeing, but it was too much for him to process. His partner was lying on his side with his legs drawn up. His arms were pulled behind his back, secured at the wrists with rope. Doug could see that the rope had made jagged cuts in Tom's wrists, leaving them and the rope covered in blood. There were bruises and marks all over his neck and throat, and his face…God…his face. Ghostly pale skin stood out in patches where the flesh was not bruised. Those patches were few, as most of his face showed a shade of dark purple or black. His eyes were tightly closed, the left one especially dark and swollen. Blood from a cut over his right eye had settled around his eyelids. Splotches of blood had dried under his nose and around his mouth. His mouth was open; something blood covered stuffed in it and held tightly by a length of rope wound around his head. This rope too had done its damage, cutting the tender skin there and leaving angry looking, bloodied marks.

Doug felt like he might throw up…or cry…or both. He made a move toward Hanson, but Fuller stopped him as he stood up.

"Doug, no! You can't touch him. Stay back."

"But he's…"

Fuller tried to calm the younger man down. "We need to wait for the EMTs and Forensics."

"But…" Doug stammered, still staring at the injured man on the ground.

Fuller took him by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "Doug, listen to me. He's breathing. He has a pulse. We need to wait so any evidence is preserved."

Doug continued to stare, his eyes wide and his mouth open.

"You want to catch these guys, don't you?" Fuller asked him. "We need to do this right."

Doug finally looked at his captain, the spell over him seemingly broken. "Yeah…yeah." He paused, then ran his hand over his face. "Jesus Christ, Fuller…what did they do to him? Who the fuck could do something like this to a person?"

Fuller let go of him and stood back to look at Hanson. He sighed and shook his head. "I don't know, Doug…but we're gonna find out."

In the distance, they could hear the sirens approaching. They continued to watch their friend, ever mindful of his breathing, ready to step in if there was a need. Doug crouched down as close to his partner as he was allowed and spoke softly. "Hey…Tom? Tommy…we're here, man. It's gonna be okay. Help is coming, buddy. Just hang on for us…hang on." There was no reaction. Doug still could not believe what he was looking at in front of him. He shook his head and looked to the sky. It seemed impossible…like something out of a dream or a bad movie.

The sound of the sirens coming closer brought Penhall back to attention. He looked up to see several police cars arriving along with an ambulance. Following close behind them were an unmarked car and a Forensics van. The vehicles screeched to a stop and the emergency personnel spilled out.

Detective Mark Michaels, a 17 year veteran of the force and a close friend of Fuller, approached the captain. "Adam," he greeted him.

"Mark," Fuller replied grimly. "I don't know what the hell we've got here, but it's a mess."

Michaels looked around the scene. "Yeah. It is. Owens is on his way. And if I were you, I'd dispense with the 'I told you so's."

The two men continued to discuss the situation, Fuller answering the detective's questions and Michaels writing in his notebook.

Doug stepped back out of the way as the two Forensics investigators arrived. The women worked quickly, know that the victim needed medical treatment as soon as possible. One of them took photos of Tom's position on the ground and close-ups of his restraints before the other began to carefully remove them. Donning latex gloves, she used scissors to cut one clean break in the rope around Tom's head. She pulled it away from him slowly, grimacing at the abrasions it left behind. She placed the rope into an evidence bag and then removed the blood soaked cloth from his mouth, bagging it as well.

Next, she moved to his hands, again cautiously snipping the rope and unwinding it from around his wrists. "Jesus," she uttered as it pulled free from the wounds with a sickening sucking sound. She bagged the rope and stood up, motioning to the paramedics. "Okay, you're good to go."

The two men ran over with their equipment and began assessing their patient. One of them began getting an IV line ready while the other checked Tom's neck for any injury before they moved him. Satisfied that there was no damage there, he took Tom's left arm to move it from behind his back so that he could be rolled over.

As the Forensics investigators and paramedics had begun touching him, Hanson began to show some signs of awareness…moving slightly and moaning softly. Still, he did not awaken or open his eyes. But when his arm was moved, he cried out in great pain and his breathing became ragged gasps, as the muscles there were cramping severely after being held in place for so long. The paramedic spoke gently to him, "I know…I know…I'm sorry." He finished moving Tom's arm and rolled him over, causing Tom to cry out again.

As Tom continued to whimper softly, the paramedic carefully raised Tom's right eyelid, peering into his eye with a penlight. Tom moaned and tried to turn away from the intruding brightness. The paramedic next gently pried open Tom's left eye, being careful not to cause too much pain as the area surrounding it was very swollen and bruised. Tom again moaned and tried to move away. Still not fully conscious, he was making small, frightened sounds as he moved his head from side to side. "Pupils are equal and reactive!" the paramedic called out to his partner. "Let's get that IV in here!"

_No no no…not again…God no…not again. _ Tom was slowly becoming aware of people around him…hands touching him…voices floating above him. They were back. They must be back. They were going to finish him off. Eyes closed, he moaned and tried to move away, feeling hands holding him in place. Panic rose inside of him, and he grew more agitated, struggling against the hands that were on him. He realized that his arms were free now, and he used them to weakly last out against his unseen agitators. The hands grasped his arms and held them at his sides while others began poking and prodding his body. Feeling helpless and defeated, he stopped his fight but continued to roll his head back and forth and began to cry, mumbling unintelligible words through his torn and swollen lips.

As the paramedics continued to work on the distressed young man, Fuller came over to join Penhall near the scene. "How's he doing?" he asked.

Doug did not look up as he answered, keeping his eyes focused on his partner. "I don't know. He's…he just…hell, look at him!"

Tom's eyes were open now, wandering aimlessly and unseeing. He was shaking, gasping for air between small sounds of despair. One of the paramedics was checking Tom's blood pressure and the other was cutting his t-shirt off, exposing his bruised and battered torso. One of the Forensics investigators took the shirt and placed it in an evidence bag as the paramedic examined his patient. "Looks like we've got some broken ribs…possible internal bleeding…how's his BP?"

"Dropping! We need to get him out of here!"

Fuller and Penhall looked on as Hanson was quickly moved to a stretcher and strapped down. "I'm going with him!" Doug announced. He ran over to the vehicle and waited while his friend was loaded in, then hopped in and sat on the bench near Tom's head.

Fuller approached and told Doug, "Chief Owens and I are going to see his mom. I'll get to the hospital as soon as I can."

Doug nodded at the captain as the doors were closed and the ambulance started to move. He looked down at Tom, wincing at the sight of the black and blue covering his chest and abdomen. He watched as the paramedic attached a heart monitor to Tom and then placed a bandage over his eye where the cut there had begun bleeding again. Tom was still shaking and muttering incoherently, his teary eyes staring straight up. But he did not respond to the paramedic's repeated questions and attempts at gaining his attention.

Despite the fact that Hanson was obviously out of it, Doug spoke quiet words of comfort to him as the siren began to wail. There appeared to be no place on Tom's body that could be touched without causing pain, but Doug reached out and took the fingers of Tom's left hand and held them gently, rubbing his thumb over the tops of them. A moment later, he felt the fingers closing tightly around his own.

* * *

**A little bit of resolution for you...for now. :-) I love hearing what you think! Another update is on its way soon.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I'm really sorry it's taken me so long to update. I appreciate everyone hanging in there though! This chapter is a little short, but I thought you would appreciate having a little something now rather than waiting too much longer. I hope so. :-)**

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* * *

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_There appeared to be no place on Tom's body that could be touched without causing pain, but Doug reached out and took the fingers of Tom's left hand and held them gently, rubbing his thumb over the tops of them. A moment later, he felt the fingers closing tightly around his own._

Tom kept his grip on Doug's fingers until the ambulance finally pulled up to the hospital. The paramedics quickly pulled the stretcher out, leaving Doug to hop out after it and follow them through the doors of the Emergency entrance.

The lights were bright, so bright, too bright. They were moving by quickly overhead as Tom stared up. Faces appeared and left just as quickly. Words floated around him in a fog.

The stretcher was pushed through the swinging doors of a trauma room as the paramedics shouted out information about their patient. The ER team quickly went to work, surrounding the injured man and transferring him effortlessly to the examination table. Nurses began to touch him all over, attaching monitors and wires to him and sticking needles in various places, and someone removed his shoes and began cutting away his jeans.

Tom was beginning to get more agitated as the activity around him increased. He was still confused, unsure of where he was and why, but he knew he was uncomfortable with all of the touching.

"Heart rate's rising!" shouted one of the nurses.

Tom felt the panic rising and tried to pull away from the prodding hands. They gently but firmly held him in place, causing him to resist harder. In a matter of seconds he was thrashing and trying to get away from everyone, crying out weakly in fear, "No, no, no…"

"It's okay, hon'," one nurse tried to soothe him as the doctor in charge, Phillip Marcus, ordered a sedative to be injected. The nurse stood over Hanson, her cool hand on his forehead, trying to keep him calm as the drugs began to take effect. Within minutes he was unconscious, his heart rate returning closer to normal.

Dr. Marcus ordered a portable x-ray and an ultrasound to be done in the trauma room and a full CT scan to be done as soon as possible after that. Nurses were cleaning the wounds on his face and wrists, but everything came to a halt when his jeans were finished being cut and were pulled away from his body.

"Dr. Marcus," said a nurse.

The doctor turned to look at the nurse, and his eyes fell upon the sight that had them all motionless. Their patient's underwear and upper thighs were covered with dried blood. There was another substance mixed in and crusted on the shorts as well, and Marcus was almost certain what it would turn out to be. He sighed. "Let's get those off of him. Be careful, and get them bagged for the CSIs."

A nurse carefully snipped the shorts up both sides and removed them, placing them into a plastic bag. Underneath them they saw more blood and semen on the young man's body.

The mood in the room was somber. The doctor spoke again. "Swab everything for evidence, then let's get him turned over. Somebody get me an SAE kit."

* * *

Captain Fuller and Chief Owens pulled into the driveway of a small house with a well-kept lawn. Fuller sighed and looked at Owens and nodded. The two men got out of the car and headed for the front door. This was a part of his job that Fuller dreaded, but he knew the best way to do it was to just do it…be direct and honest, although most family members seemed to already know what he was going to say before he said it.

Margaret Hanson was no exception. She opened the door immediately after the first ring of the doorbell. She recognized the captain but not the man with him, and she knew it was not good news.

"Mrs. Hanson," Fuller greeted her. "This is Chief Owens. We…"

"Is he dead?" she interrupted while keeping her eyes locked on Fuller's.

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "But…we need to get to the hospital."

Without another word, she retrieved her purse and keys from a table near the door and exited the house, locking the door behind her. She sat on the passenger side of her car while Fuller drove and Chief Owens followed in his car. Margaret was quiet, lost in thought. This was not the first time she had been through this. Her mind sped backward to years before when officers had come to her door bringing the news that her husband was dead.

When her son had decided to follow in his father's footsteps and become a police officer, she had prayed that she would never again have officers come to her door like that. She had prayed every day since, but today it had happened again.

"What happened?" she finally asked, breaking the silence.

"We aren't really sure yet," Fuller answered. "We found him in a park. He was tied up…unconscious…looked like he'd been beat up pretty badly."

Margaret tried to keep her composure, but Fuller's words brought to her mind images and implications that could not be ignored. She blinked back the tears as she continued to stare straight ahead. She tried not to think of what her son might have suffered through, knowing that he would need her to be strong for him.

* * *

Doug sat alone in one of the waiting areas in the ER. There were other officers at the hospital, concerned about Hanson and angry over the attack on one of their own. But Doug could no longer stand all of the activity…the questions…and already the press was starting to hang around looking for details to publish.

Try as he might, he could not get the images of his broken and bloodied partner out of his mind. And he couldn't help wondering how it had happened. Had Tom even gotten into his apartment that night or had they grabbed him on the street? If it was the latter, then it must have been right after Doug dropped him off. If he had checked his rear view mirror, would he have seen them? If he had waited until Tom had gone inside, would it still have happened?

"Doug!!"

Captain Fuller's booming voice startled him back to the present. He looked up to see the captain standing in front of him and noticed that Hanson's mom had arrived as well and was sitting in the chair across from him talking to Detective Michaels. Chief Owens was out in the hallway trying to appease the reporters who were still clamoring for more information.

"Sorry," Doug sheepishly answered. "I was just…thinking. What'd you say?"

"I asked you if you've heard anything. How's he doing?"

Doug shook his head and looked down at his hands as he clasped and unclasped them nervously. "Nah…nothing yet. He's still in there." He gestured with his head across the hall toward the doors marked Trauma Room 3.

Fuller nodded his head and sat down next to Doug to wait. It was only a few minutes, however, before the trauma room doors opened and medical personnel bustled out. Everyone in the waiting area stood up anxiously, trying to see what was happening, but the group of nurses and doctors were gone as quickly as they had come, pushing among them a prone body on a stretcher. One doctor, however, approached them and asked, "Tom Hanson's family?"

Margaret stepped forward and announced, "I'm his mother. How is he?"

"Mrs. Hanson, I'm Dr. Marcus. I treated your son when he was brought in." He paused and looked around the now crowded room. "If you'll step over here, there's a private room where we can talk."

"No, I'm fine here. Tell me how my son is," she replied anxiously.

Dr. Marcus looked around the room. "I really think it's better if we have some privacy."

Margaret's fear was increasing at the doctor's avoidance of her question. "All right," she conceded, her voice flat as she stared at the doctor. "Doug…Captain Fuller…will you come with us please?"

Doug and the captain looked at each other, and Adam answered, "Of course."

The doctor led them to a small room, sparse in decoration but housing several comfortable looking chairs in close proximity to each other. Dr. Marcus took a seat opposite the others and inquired, "Are you gentlemen family as well?"

"Dr. Marcus," Fuller explained, "Tom is a police officer. I'm his supervisor, Adam Fuller, and this is his partner, Doug Penhall."

The doctor nodded at them and then asked, "Will you be doing the investigation of this crime?"

"Detective Mark Michaels will be the lead on the case, but we'll assist as much as we can along with the lead CSI, Angie Hicks."

"Good…good," Marcus said. "We have quite a lot of evidence to turn over to her."

"Excuse me!" Margaret interjected loudly, her voice breaking. "I would like to know what's going on with my son and I want to know _now_!"

The three men looked at her sympathetically as she fought to keep her composure. "Of course," the doctor answered. He took a deep breath before continuing. "We've sent him up to surgery. The ultrasound showed some internal bleeding, and he was in shock. It's possibly a ruptured spleen or a liver laceration."

The three looked at the doctor, waiting, knowing there was more to come.

"He's also got a severe concussion, a hairline fracture of the skull, a broken nose and several other facial cuts and abrasions. There are three broken ribs and two cracked, and both wrists were cut deeply. There's a possibility of nerve damage, but we can't tell for sure yet."

Doug and Fuller both felt their anger rising with each word the doctor spoke. Their friend had suffered immensely at the hands of another, and they were clueless as to what to do next. They were anxious to get to the "business" side of this case, but the personal side was taking its toll on them.

Tom's mother was taking it even worse. Hearing her son's injuries detailed one by one was like having a knife stabbed into her heart over and over again. She didn't know how long she could stand to listen to the doctor before she would break down and lose it altogether. But she was about to find out.

Dr. Marcus sighed heavily. "And…" he said, "we found evidence that…he'd been…sexually assaulted as well."

* * *

**More to come soon! In the meantime, give me a little encouragement. :-D**


	9. Chapter 9

_Dr. Marcus sighed heavily. "And…" he said, "we found evidence that…he'd been…sexually assaulted as well."_

Suddenly, it seemed as if all of the air had been sucked from the room as the weight of the doctor's words settled over everyone. Doug felt like he was going to be sick, uttering "Jesus" under his breath, Margaret sat stunned and silent with her mouth open, and Fuller spoke for all of them as he asked, confused, "What?"

Dr. Marcus cleared his throat before continuing. "It appears that he's been sexually assaulted. But…I mean…I don't know the young man. It could have been consensual and…"

"No!" Doug interrupted. He shook his head vehemently. "No…he doesn't do that…he's not…like that. You saw the marks on him! He was tied up...they…he was…"

"Doug, calm down," Fuller said, though his own mind was racing with a million different thoughts.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply anything," the doctor answered. "The fact is that there are signs of sexual activity. That, coupled with the injuries and the restraints, would suggest assault. I'm just saying that without further investigation and hearing what happened from Tom himself, we can't automatically jump to conclusions. Not just yet."

Doug and Fuller turned their attention to Tom's mother who had yet to respond to this devastating news. For a moment, she looked like a woman who had just lost every ounce of life left inside of her. And then, she blinked back her tears, refusing to let even one fall as she asked, "How long before I can see him?"

The doctor and the other two men looked at each other, surprised that she seemed to still be holding up well. "Barring any complications, he should be out of surgery in a few hours. He'll be in recovery for at least an hour after that, depending on how things go. Then we'll move him to Intensive Care. You can visit him once we have him settled in there." He watched as she took in the information, nodding her head. "There's a waiting room for surgery on the third floor. They'll come out and let you know how it's going and when he's sent to recovery."

Doug stood up and put his hand on Margaret's shoulder. "Come on. Let's go up to the waiting room." She looked up at him and nodded, then allowed him to escort her out of the room. Captain Fuller rose to leave as well, but was stopped by the doctor.

"Captain Fuller," he said. "I just want you to know…we did recover a lot of evidence from Tom's body and his clothes. I think you'll catch whoever did this."

* * *

"He's coming out of it."

The two nurses assigned to monitor Tom in the recovery room hovered over his bed, checking the screens and machines as he slowly regained consciousness. The surgery had gone well, although the surgeons had been forced to remove his spleen as the injury to it was too severe to repair. The good news was that there had been no damage to his liver, although his kidneys showed severe bruising.

As their patient began to stir slightly on the bed, moving his head from left to right against the pillow and moaning softly, the nurses kept careful watch over him.

Dark. It was still dark. He could swear it had been daylight a moment ago. Or maybe it was the moon. The moon? _Oh God…oh God._

"Carol!" one of the nurses called to the other who had walked back to the desk for a moment. "I need you!" she exclaimed as she watched the young man on the bed begin moving around more furiously, his moans increasing.

"_Settle down…you're gonna like this." Touching him…he was touching him all over._

Tom's breath was coming in fast pants now as he writhed on the bed. The nurses stood on either side of him, talking to him and trying to calm him down as he regained consciousness.

"_Anybody ever tell you what a fine piece of ass you are?" God stop, please…please._

One of the nurses, Maggie, held Tom's hand and put the other on his forehead. She spoke words of comfort, trying to assure him that everything was okay. Carol had gone to call Dr. Marcus to the recovery room to assist.

"_God ain't gonna help you now." Oh Jesus...let me go….please…it's enough…please. _He could hear the taunts, smell the refuse from the dumpster, and feel the gun against his head. _"…I can do it again."_

Suddenly Tom's thrashing increased and he bolted upright, screaming. Maggie was knocked backward as he pulled his hand from hers and flailed his arms wildly in her direction. One of the monitors went crashing to the floor along with the IV pole.

Dr. Marcus and Carol were just arriving and heard the commotion. They rushed to the curtained area and saw Maggie trying to get Tom to calm down, but she was unable to get close to him as he sat hunched over on the bed, one arm slung around his middle and the other wrapped around his head. He was rocking back and forth, sobbing, and he flinched and cried out every time she tried to touch him.

Concerned that the patient was hurting himself or that he would tear his incision site, Dr. Marcus ran to the side of the bed and grasped Tom's shoulders, trying to force him to lie back down. His actions only caused Tom to fight harder. "Get me a sedative!" the doctor shouted to the nurses. Unable to get the distraught patient to stay still and lie down again, Dr. Marcus resorted to wrapping his arms around him, trying to contain his wildly thrashing arms and keep him from hurting himself. "Calm down, son…it's okay…you're safe…it's okay." But his words went unheard as Tom continued to struggle.

The doctor finally got Tom back down on the bed, although it was taking all of his strength to keep him there without hurting him. Tom's crying intensified as he felt his body being forced down against his will, and he threw his head back, his back arching off of the bed as he let out a loud, desperate scream of anguish.

"Maggie! Hurry up with that!" Dr. Marcus shouted as the nurse arrived with the sedative. She injected it quickly, and the doctor continued to hold Tom down as he slowly relaxed, his eyes closing. A moment later he was still, save for his chest rising and falling steadily with his breathing.

Carol began wiping the sweat and tears from Tom's face with a cool cloth as the others looked on. Dr. Marcus pulled the sheet back to examine the incision site and found some slight bleeding from a few torn stitches, however it was not severe enough to warrant any repairing. He sighed heavily as he contemplated what to do next. He made his decision, instructed the nurses, and left the recovery room.

* * *

Doug, Fuller, and Hanson's mother had been sitting in the surgery waiting room for hours, sometimes quiet, sometimes making small talk, but never discussing the reason they were all there. There would be plenty of time for that once they knew that Tom was going to be okay…at least physically.

After several hours of waiting, they had been informed that the surgery had gone well and that they would be able to see Tom in about an hour. So when they saw Dr. Marcus entering the room, they were relieved that the wait was finally over. When they saw the solemn look on his face, however, they realized that something was wrong.

Margaret was the first to rise to her feet. "What's happened?" she asked, alarmed.

"Sit down, please, Mrs. Hanson," the doctor said kindly, "and I'll update you."

She did as he asked and waited anxiously for the news. Doug and Captain Fuller sat on either side of her for support, both on alert and expecting the worst.

Dr. Marcus took a seat across from them and began explaining. "He's still fine. We just had a few…issues…as he was coming around. We've gone ahead and moved him to the Intensive Care Unit."

"What kind of…issues?" Margaret asked, concerned. "And if he's in the ICU now, I want to see him."

"You can go in soon," he replied. "But…we've had to sedate him again."

"What? Why?" Doug asked.

"He woke up from the anesthesia and…" Dr. Marcus chose his words carefully. "He became very agitated."

"What does that mean?" Margaret demanded. "Dr. Marcus, please…just tell me what's going on!"

The doctor nodded. "Well, he didn't know where he was, of course. He was scared…out of it…hysterical, really. He was fighting us physically, and…we were forced to sedate him again. We can't take the chance that this will happen again the next time he wakes up."

The others were listening intently, harboring emotions that ran the gamut from sadness to anger. It seemed as though nothing was going right for Tom, even though he had been rescued and saved from certain death. It just did not seem fair. And they felt helpless.

Dr. Marcus had more to say, although it seemed clear that it was difficult for him. "We also had to put restraints on him."

"Are you crazy?!" Doug blurted out.

"Doug!" Fuller said forcefully. "Let him finish!"

"No! This is bullshit! After what he went through? How do you think that's going to help?! He's going to be even more scared when he wakes up and finds himself tied up again!"

"I'm sorry," Marcus replied, "but it's better than having him hurt himself or someone else."

"He's right, Doug," Margaret said quietly. "We need to let him do what's best for Tom."

Doug shook his head, disgusted, and began pacing up and down. "Then what?" he asked angrily. "What happens when he wakes up and freaks out again?"

"We won't let that happen. Believe me, we're as concerned for his wellbeing as you all are. What we're going to do is wean him off of the sedative slowly, and Mrs. Hanson, we want you there when he wakes up. If he wakes up gradually and he has someone there with him that he recognizes…someone that he knows he's safe with…I think he'll do okay. Or at least better. And we can move on from there."

Margaret looked at the doctor. "How long then? How much longer will you keep him like that?"

"I'd like to keep him sedated for several more hours at least," Dr. Marcus replied. "As upset as he was, and with his physical injuries, he really needs as much rest as he can get before he has to start dealing with everything."

She lowered her head and nodded, fighting back the tears again. "Okay," she answered quietly.

The doctor touched her arm sympathetically and said, "Actually, it's getting late, and I'm heading off shift. I'm going to keep him under until the morning when I come back. Why don't you go home and get some rest as well?"

"No." She looked up at him. "I can't leave. What if…? I need to be here."

"I promise you, he's going to be fine until morning. And I will not let him be awakened until you're here and with him."

Doug stepped over to her and said, "Come on…maybe we should all go and get some sleep. I'll pick you up first thing in the morning and we'll come back."

Margaret hesitated. "I don't know."

"It will be a long day tomorrow," Fuller added. "It would probably be best if you were well rested, don't you think?"

Exhausted already, she finally gave in. With the doctor's assurance that there would be no change and that her son would be sleeping all night as well, she allowed Fuller to drive her back home. Sleep did not come easily for Margaret, however, and it was nearly dawn when she finally drifted off, the thoughts of her son now occupying her dreams.

* * *

**A big thank you to those who are still reading and especially to the reviewers! **


	10. Chapter 10

_Exhausted already, she finally gave in. With the doctor's assurance that there would be no change and that her son would be sleeping all night as well, she allowed Fuller to drive her back home. Sleep did not come easy for Margaret, however, and it was nearly dawn when she finally drifted off, the thoughts of her son now occupying her dreams._

Early the next morning, Doug arrived as promised to take Margaret Hanson to the hospital where Captain Fuller was already waiting. Dr. Marcus met them in the ICU waiting area. When Doug asked if they could all go in, the doctor agreed but cautioned, "Only for a minute. Then we're going to let Mrs. Hanson stay while we bring him out of sedation." He opened the door for them and then led them past beds separated by curtains until he reached the second to last section, just opposite the nurses' station. He stood aside and let the visitors push past the curtain.

Margaret had been bracing herself for this moment, but she had not imagined anything close to what she was seeing in front of her now. Her son lay flat in the bed, covered with a sheet and a thin blanket, surrounded by a myriad of monitors and machines. Numerous tubes and wires were attached to or coming out of him. He looked so frail, his body nearly swallowed up by the hospital gown he wore.

She walked over to the bed and looked down at him, biting her lip hard to maintain her composure. She put a hand in his hair, smoothing it back from his face. His face. Her heart broke at the sight of it. Bruised and battered, eyes swollen, stitches in his forehead and running along his lips…she would know him anywhere, but he looked nothing like the handsome, strong, young man that she knew and loved.

Doug and Fuller had seen Tom at the crime scene, so they were somewhat prepared for his appearance. Still, the sight of him now, even after being cleaned up, was a shock to them. They stayed a moment and then left quietly, leaving Margaret and the doctor alone with Tom.

Dr. Marcus touched Tom's mother on the arm and asked if she was ready. She looked at him and nodded, so he motioned to one of the nurses to come over and start reducing the amount of sedative Tom was receiving through his IV. The doctor placed a chair by the bed for Margaret and then stood out of the way with the nurse.

Margaret sat down and took Tom's hand. She cringed at the soft restraint that was holding his arm to the bedrail, but cringed even more at the bandage wrapped around his wrist. The thin, white gauze failed to conceal the blood seeping from his wound. There was a matching bandage on his other wrist, and she pushed out of her mind the images of what had caused these injuries. She looked at his face again, noticing for the first time the rope burns around his mouth and the variety of marks on his neck…small bruises that looked like fingertips and other less distinctive splotches of dark red. Just when she thought she might be starting to lose her composure, Tom began to make small sounds and move his head.

Margaret sat up straighter in her chair and looked at Dr. Marcus. He nodded to the nurse who then made another adjustment to the IV. Margaret tightened her grip on Tom's hand and leaned over him, stroking his hair with her other hand as he began to mumble and his eyelids fluttered.

Tom felt hands on him, and panic started to reach through his foggy mind. He whimpered a little and cringed at the touches, but the hands did not leave. They were not hurting him, though, he realized. These were gentle hands touching him, not rough hands grabbing him. Then a soft, familiar voice whispered, "It's okay, baby…it's okay."

It couldn't be, could it? As he became more and more aware of what was happening, he decided it would be safe now to open his eyes. Lying flat and looking up with blurry eyes, he blinked a few times and then saw her smiling face. "Mom?" he murmured through barely moving lips.

_You need your mommy to come kiss it and make it better?_

His face clouded with fear and he yanked his hand away from Margaret's as far as the restraint would allow. "No…" he panted out, his heart rate increasing dramatically as he began looking around wildly.

"Tom, calm down."

_Easy there, pal…you're gonna hurt yourself!_

"Oh my God," he moaned, now pulling hard at both restraints. "No, no, no, no…" He shrank away as his mother reached out to him.

Margaret looked up at the doctor, her face pleading with him to do something.

"Talk to him," Dr. Marcus said. "Make sure he knows it's you and that he's safe."

She turned her attention back to her son who was now writhing on the bed and whimpering. She placed her hands lightly on each of his arms, trying to keep him from pulling at the restraints. Hovering over him, she said, "Tom…Tom look at me. It's your mom. You're okay, honey, you're safe. Please, Tommy…look at me." She placed one hand gently on the side of his face as he continued to try to twist away from her.

Her words made it through his groggy mind, but they were muffled…as if he were hearing them through cotton stuffed into his ears. He was moving away from her, toward the other words in his mind that were coming through loud and clear…the frightening words, the threats, and the vile curses. Eyes tightly closed, he began to cry, still desperately pulling to get his arms free.

Margaret looked at Dr. Marcus. "Take them off," she said.

"I really don't think that's such a good ide…"

"Take them off!" she shouted as her son continued to struggle beneath her.

The doctor sighed and moved to the side of the bed. He took off the restraint, and the nurse did the same with Tom's other arm. Before he had a chance to flail them, Margaret grasped each one firmly and held them in place.

_Hold him still for me._

"Oh God…oh God…" Feeling himself being held down, Tom began to cry harder.

Margaret let go of one arm so that she could place her hand on his face. "Tom, please…open your eyes. Look at me."

He used his newly freed hand to reach out and grasp her arm, clutching it desperately as he continued to cry. "Please…God, please…don't…" he sobbed.

His mother was growing more distressed by the minute. She seemed to be unable to reach him and had no idea what to do. Dr. Marcus encouraged, "Just keep talking to him. He's coming out of it. You're doing a good job."

She was crying now too as she pleaded with her unresponsive son, "Tommy, please…please listen to me. Open your eyes, sweetie. Look at me…please." She now had one hand caressing his hair and the other rubbing his shoulder. Tom was gripping both of her arms now, trying to push her away, but she would not give up and spoke more forcefully now. "Tom! Look at me! You're okay! I'm here! You're okay!"

No one was holding him down now. He heard his mother calling him, but it couldn't be. It was another damned dream. He wouldn't allow his hopes to be raised again. He couldn't take it if it was another dream. But she sounded so real. So close. And so sad. Why was she crying? He would do anything for her…anything she asked. He opened his eyes.

Finally, Margaret was looking into those dark brown eyes, and this time they were seeing her…really seeing her. She smiled through her tears as she looked down on him. "It's okay…I'm here, baby…you're going to be okay."

She was real. She was really there. He tried to look around…to see where he was, but her gaze held his eyes locked to hers. It didn't matter where he was. He was safe now. Overwhelmed with both confusion and relief, he began to sob again, managing to choke out, "Mom…" as he tried to pull her closer into a hug.

Tom's arms wrapped around his mother as she bent over and lifted him just enough to get her arms under him and complete the embrace. She held him tightly, mindful of his injuries, and whispered soft, soothing words to him as he clung to her and cried. After a moment, she laid him back down and gently took his arms from around her, but held tightly to his hands.

Tom looked up at her, still clearly frightened despite the security of knowing his mother was with him. He swallowed, and asked, lips trembling, "Do you know what they did to me?"

Margaret put a soft hand to his face and tenderly wiped his tears away as she nodded. He looked away, ashamed, and she gently guided his gaze back to meet hers. "You're going to be just fine. We're going to take care of you, baby. Everything's going to be all right."

He sniffed a little, but did not respond, looking away again.

"Doug and Captain Fuller are here," she said. "They've been really worried about you." She paused and waited for a response that did not come. "Would you like to see them?" she finally asked.

Still he did not look at her, but he slowly shook his head.

She squeezed her son's hand tightly and told him, "It's okay…whenever you're ready."

* * *

The next two days went by in a blur for Margaret Hanson. Tom was still in the ICU due to his head injuries and an infection he had developed at his surgery site. He still had not allowed anyone to visit except for his mother who remained by his side as much as possible. Even when he was asleep, she would not leave for fear that she would not be there when the next nightmare came. And they came often. Tom was rarely asleep longer than an hour before he would begin to mumble and thrash about in the bed. The nightmares always ended the same way…with a scream that ripped a little more of his mother's heart away each time it happened. But she was always there, ready to gather him into her arms and hold him until he quieted down and fell asleep again.

Dr. Marcus and the nurses had made some progress in getting Tom to talk to them, but it was mostly short responses to their questions. He still had not talked about what had happened to him. Dr. Marcus let Margaret know that the hospital psychologist would have to talk to Tom before he would allowed to leave the hospital, and the sooner this happened the better he thought it would be for Tom. She had not wanted to push him, but she also realized that he needed to begin talking about it, for it wouldn't be long before the choice was not up to him.

"Tom," Margaret had gently told him. "Sweetie, you need to see Doug and Adam…and Detective Michaels." When he did not respond, she had sighed and continued, "Honey, if you don't…soon…the chief is going to assign someone else to your case." She had soothingly rubbed his back as he lay on his side facing away from her, still silent. "You're going to have to talk about it. Wouldn't you rather talk to your friends than someone you don't know?" she said, stroking his hair. "Hmmm?" Finally, she saw a slight nod and heard a barely audible agreement.

* * *

"Mark!"

Detective Michaels turned around to see CSI Angie Hicks running down the hall toward him as he headed for the exit. "Hey, Angie, what's up? You remember Officer Penhall and Captain Fuller?"

"Yeah…hi." She nodded at the two men who were just about to leave the police station with the detective. "I'm glad I caught you guys. Have you talked to Tom Hanson yet?"

"No," replied Michaels. "We're on our way over there right now."

"Ah…well, I've got some results for you." She handed the detective a file and sighed. "But the only physical evidence we have is for Tom and one other person."

"Just one?" Doug asked. "You saw him. You think just one person did all that and Tom wasn't able to get away?"

She shot him a quick look. "I didn't say that's what I think. I said that's all the evidence we have…just Hanson and one other person. We got a DNA hit on an ex-con…guy named Lee Eckert."

For a moment, Doug and Fuller stood with their mouths open, and then Doug broke the silence, uttering, "Oh shit."

Michaels looked at the two men uncomprehendingly, but the CSI said, "Yeah, I know."

"Somebody wanna fill me in?" the detective said.

"Hanson busted him about a year and a half ago," replied Fuller. "It took him two months undercover to get close enough to Eckert for him to confess to the murder of a teenage girl." He looked at Angie. "What the fuck happened? He's supposed to be serving life."

"Got out about a month ago," she answered. "The case file says Judge Beckett threw out the conviction based on a coerced confession."

"That's bullshit!" Doug exclaimed.

Detective Michaels shook his head. "Yeah, well, Beckett seems to have a record full of bullshit. This isn't the first guilty asshole he's set free. Everyone thinks he's on the take, but so far no one can prove it."

"Look," said Fuller, "why didn't anyone let us know this guy was out?"

"Fell through the cracks, I guess," Angie replied.

"Yeah." The captain's eyes were on fire as he spoke. "Fell through the cracks and my officer pays the price. This whole system is shot to hell!"

"Adam, come on," Michaels said. "We've both been around long enough to know how things work. Shit happens. And it happens to roll downhill. Let's just concentrate on getting this guy back behind bars where he belongs."

"Yeah…yeah…" Fuller ran his hand across his face, trying to calm down. "So what did you find?" he asked the CSI.

"Well," she sighed. "The only trace on Hanson's clothes was environmental…just dirt and leaves and some…stuff…from around the dumpster where he was found. His underwear had a mixture of blood and semen on it. The blood was his…the semen was both his and Eckert's, which is consistent with the rape kit sample taken from Hanson's body."

All three men looked extremely uncomfortable as well as angry as she continued. "The ropes used to tie him up were too contaminated by blood and dirt to get any epithelia. The cloth used to gag him had just his blood and saliva on it. And there were no skin scrapings under his nails."

"So that's it?" Doug asked, trying to hold his temper.

"I'm sorry, guys. But right now, Eckert is your only lead."

* * *

**A/N: I think this one's a little longer than usual. I hope you like it. Is the pace okay? Or too slow? Too fast? I know where it's going, and I think the pace is working well, but I'd like to know how you're feeling about it too. Thanks for dropping me a line! :-)**


	11. Chapter 11

"_So that's it?" Doug asked, trying to hold his temper._

"_I'm sorry, guys. But right now, Eckert is your only lead."_

Doug and Captain Fuller drove to the hospital, following Detective Michaels' car. They were silent, both men still processing the information they had just been given by CSI Hicks.

Doug finally broke the silence. "Hey, Cap'n?"

"Yeah?"

"She said…" He cleared his throat. "Um…they found…uh…why would Tom's…um…"

Fuller knew what Doug was thinking and spared him the embarrassment of having to finish the question. "I don't know, Doug. Right now I can't fathom that any of this is really happening, let alone how or why it happened." He sighed. "Let's just wait and see what Hanson has to say."

Doug looked at the captain, then back out the window. "Yeah," he replied.

At the hospital, they met Dr. Marcus as he was leaving Tom's room. The officer had been moved earlier that morning to a private room. "Gentlemen," he greeted them.

"Hey, doc," said Doug. "How's he doing?"

"He's a bit anxious, but I think he's ready to talk to you. "

Fuller asked, "Has he talked to the psychologist yet?"

Dr. Marcus shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. I really wanted him to do that before he spoke to you, but he refused. I think before he's ready to delve deeper into things he probably just wants to get this out of the way. And that might not be such a bad idea…break the ice, so to speak. Once he's done that, there's pretty much no going back, so…having the support of his friends when this all gets started is going to be pretty important."

"We just want to do whatever we can to make it easier for him…help him get through it," replied Fuller.

"That's good to hear," said the doctor. "Well…he knows you're here, so you can go on in anytime. Have a nurse give me a call if you need anything."

"Thanks, doc," said Doug. His stomach was in knots, but he turned to Fuller and Michaels and asked, "You guys ready?" They nodded, and the three of them headed for the door to Tom's room.

Tom lay in the dimly lit room…waiting. He had put it off as long as he could, but now they were here. His fingers clenched and unclenched the sheet that was covering him. How was he going to tell them everything? He knew that they knew what had happened. He wasn't sure if that was going to make talking to them easier or harder, but he supposed it really didn't matter. He was going to have to do this at some point, so he might as well get it over with.

There was a soft knock at the door, and the three men entered the room. As they came closer, Tom recognized the captain and Doug. He had to fight to keep his composure. So far he had seen only his mother and the doctors and nurses. The sight of more familiar faces filled him with overwhelming emotion. It gave him a sense of security, but he also felt embarrassment and uncertainty. How would they react to what had happened? And what would they think of him? He swallowed the fear as well as the lump that was forming in his throat. Hands shaking, he clutched the sheet tighter and pulled it up a little higher.

Doug and Fuller approached the bed and greeted their friend with smiles. "Hi, Tom," said the captain.

"Hey, buddy," added Doug. "How you doing?"

Tom looked up at them and then away again. "Okay. Thanks." Try as he might, he could not keep the tremble out of his voice.

Captain Fuller noticed Tom's eyes welling up and wondered to himself if this was a good idea. Perhaps the psychologist should be here as well for this. But there was no turning back now. "Look, Tom," he said. "I know this is hard for you. But we just…"

"I'm okay," Tom interrupted, clearing his throat. He moved a little farther up on the bed so that he was sitting up more, grimacing at the pain it caused in his ribs and stomach. Doug made a move toward him to help, but Tom stopped him short when he shouted, "I _said_ I'm okay!"

Doug stepped back and he and the others looked at Hanson. His head was bowed, his arm slung across his middle, and it looked like he was trying to keep from crying. Finally he looked up at them. His expression betrayed the regret he felt about his outburst but also the despair he was feeling. He tried his best to put on a neutral face and asked softly, "What do you want to know?"

The three men looked at each other, and then Michaels stepped forward. "Officer Hanson," he said, "I don't know if you remember me. I'm Detective Mark Michaels. We worked a drug smuggling case together at Mosely High about a year ago."

Tom nodded slightly. "Yeah. Hi."

Doug and Fuller sat down in chairs a few feet away from the bed. Michaels pulled a chair close to the bedside and sat down. "Look…Tom…we already know who did this. You don't have to give a lot of details right now. I just need to know the basics, okay?" He leaned over closer to the bed to make eye contact with Tom. "Okay?"

"Okay," Tom responded, barely audible. He appeared to relax a little, settling back into the pillows and sighing.

"Good," said Michaels as he opened his notepad and took out his pen. "We'll go slowly. Let's start at the beginning. How did all of this start?"

Tom took a deep breath and let it out, looking up at the ceiling before casting his eyes down and starting to speak. "It was after Doug dropped me off in front of my place. It was…um…I…" He clutched the sheet again and began to twist it nervously. He looked plaintively at the detective. "I…I don't remember what day it was."

"It's okay," said Michaels sympathetically. "Go on."

"I…didn't go in right away. I should have. I watched him drive away before I turned to go in, and…somebody grabbed me…from behind." Tom sighed before continuing. "They pushed me into the back of a car…onto the floor."

"Did you see who it was?"

Tom shook his head. "No…they kept me down until…until the car stopped."

"Then what?" asked Michaels.

"They pulled me out…onto the ground." He looked down at his hands, still twisted in the sheets. "…started…kicking me." He let out a shaky breath. "There were two of them…then they…they dragged me over to…it was him…" He looked up at the detective. "It was Eckert," he whispered, his lips trembling.

Michaels looked at his notepad and jotted a few things down. He was trying to remain detached and professional, but he couldn't help feeling bad for the kid. It made him sick to think about what had happened, and hearing it from Tom himself was even worse.

Doug and Fuller were listening as well, but their position in the room, away from the bed, made it seem as if Michaels and Hanson were having this discussion alone. Tom was focusing on the detective, and he seemed to have forgotten that they were there. It was probably for the best, as he appeared to be growing more comfortable with the detective the more they talked.

"So it was Eckert," Michaels said. "Did you recognize the other two?"

"No," Tom answered. "I couldn't see them very well. They were usually…they were…holding me while he…punched me."

"Okay. So what happened next?"

"He told me…a judge let him out." He looked at Michaels. "Is that true?" he asked.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm afraid so, Tom. But it wasn't right. He shouldn't have. Eckert shouldn't be out right now." Michaels fought back the anger that was rising and encouraged the young man, "Go on."

"Well, he was…saying a bunch of stuff…how he was gonna…teach me some lessons…things he'd learned…in jail. He just kept…beating on me. Then I was on the ground…I passed out. When I woke up…they were still there." He looked away, toward the far corner of the room, as a visible shudder ran through his body.

"Hey," said Michaels. "You're doing good. Do you need a break?"

Tom looked back at him and shook his head. "No…no, let's get it done."

"Okay. Take your time."

"So they dragged me back over by the car. He pushed me down over the hood and he was…touching me…all over…and…" Tom's breathing was becoming more labored now, and he was squirming, shrinking back into the pillows. "He was putting his mouth on me…on my neck…my ear…God…he smelled so bad…he was in my face…saying things…"

Doug and Fuller were getting more uncomfortable by the minute listening to Tom's account, but they knew this had to be done and they knew they needed every bit of information to make a case against Eckert. So they steeled themselves for what they knew was coming.

Tom continued, "I was looking up at the sky…the moon…trying to think of a way out. He turned me over…tied my hands behind me…stuffed something into my mouth…I don't know what was on it…it tasted awful. He shoved it in and tied it there. I…I…thought I was gonna choke on it."

Michaels' eyes flitted to the abrasions from the ropes on Tom's wrists and face, then back to his notebook. He was finding it harder and harder to look at the officer as he told his story.

Tom sighed again. "I knew what he was gonna do. I knew it. I tried to get away. I really did." He looked at Michaels.

"I know," the detective said. "I know you did. Tom, it was three against one. I don't know about the other two, but from what I've heard Eckert is a pretty big guy. They had you outnumbered…injured…and tied up." He shook his head. "There wasn't anything you could do."

Hanson's eyes met those of the other man, and he silently thanked him for those words. He wasn't quite sure he believed them…not yet. But he was so relieved to hear someone say them.

"Anyway…every time I struggled, he'd start hitting me again. My head hurt so bad. He had a gun…he held it to my head…put it in my mouth…then I was face down…one of the other guys was holding me down…I couldn't breathe…and he was…he was…behind me…he was…pulling my jeans down." Tom took a deep breath. He felt like he was going to get sick. His hands were shaking hard again, despite the death grip he had on the sheet. He couldn't do this. He couldn't go back there.

Detective Michaels looked at Tom and saw the young man's distress. Just as quickly, though, he saw a quiet, detached calm come over the officer. Surprised and intrigued, he leaned in a little closer as Tom started to speak again, this time more quickly.

"Then he did it. He raped me. Twice. Then he threw me on the ground. The others kicked the shit out of me again. And they threw me behind the dumpster and left me there." He looked up at Michaels. "That's it."

"That's it?"

"Yeah. He said he wasn't gonna kill me because he wanted me to remember it and to know he could come back and do it again." He leaned back and pulled the sheet up some more.

Doug and Fuller stood up and came over to the bed. "That's not going to happen, Tom," said Fuller. "We're going to get him. He's going back to jail for this."

Tom shook his head. "I don't care. I'm not pressing charges."

The three men all looked at each other in surprise and Doug asked, "What? What do you mean? Don't you want this guy put away for this?"

"Doesn't matter," Tom replied, staring straight ahead at the wall in front of him. "He's a career criminal. He'll go down for something else before long."

"But…" Doug began.

"Doug," said Fuller. "It's okay."

"But don't you want him to go down for _this_?" Doug finished, his voice getting louder.

"It doesn't matter," Tom said again.

"Well," said Michaels, "it's not really up to you, I'm afraid. Assault on a police officer is a crime against the city. They'll prosecute for it."

"I'm not testifying."

"Tom…" Michaels started to reply before he was stopped by Fuller.

"Hey…hey…it's okay," the captain said. "There's plenty of time to talk about this later. Tom, we're going to leave you alone…let you get some rest, okay?"

"Yeah," he responded quietly without looking up.

Doug looked on as Fuller asked his friend, "Are you okay?"

Tom looked up and smiled a small smile at them. "Yeah…yeah…I'm fine. Thanks for coming by."

"We'll check in with you later, okay?" said Fuller.

"Yeah. Thanks."

Fuller and Michaels left the room, with Doug following behind, turning to take one more look at his partner as Tom settled back against the pillows again, a distant look on his face. Doug went out into the hallway and met up with the others who were discussing what had just happened.

"This is fine for now," Michaels was saying. "The D.A. will want more details in the deposition, of course, but with this and the DNA evidence we have enough to arrest Eckert now."

"I thought we would," said Fuller. "Get your guys to pin down a location, and we're with you. Right, Doug?" He looked at his officer, but Penhall was staring back down the hall where Tom's room was located. "Doug?!"

"Huh?!" Doug looked back at the men. "What?"

"I said we want to go with them to get this guy. Right?"

"Oh yeah. Yeah…sure," he replied, still obviously distracted. "Hey, I'll catch up with you later, okay?" he asked, and then without waiting for an answer headed back down the hall.

Michaels and Fuller just looked at each other and shrugged.

Doug approached the doorway to Tom's room and cautiously peered into the dim room. Tom was still sitting propped up in the bed against the pillows. He had one arm draped over his eyes and the other across his middle. Doug quietly entered the room and walked closer to him. He could hear the soft weeping sounds coming from his friend. He moved closer, and not wanting to frighten him spoke softly. "Tom?"

Hanson flinched a little at the sound but did not uncover his face.

"Hey, man…" Doug wasn't really sure what to say. "It's okay. You're gonna be okay."

Tom took his arm away from his face and looked up. His face was wet with tears, his eyes sad and lonely. He tried to regain his composure and look strong, but as Doug approached him he lost it. His face crumpled in tears and he brought his hands up to his face to cover it, but as he did he felt arms around him. He tried to pull away but the arms held tight, so he just accepted it. The feeling of comfort overwhelmed him, and he began to sob in earnest, finally putting his arms around Doug as well and clutching him tightly as he cried.

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**Well, I got this updated sooner than I anticipated. I hope you guys like it. Thanks again for all of the great reviews. I really appreciate hearing from you! **


	12. Chapter 12

_Tom took his arm away from his face and looked up. His face was wet with tears, his eyes sad and lonely. He tried to regain his composure and look strong, but as Doug approached him he lost it. His face crumpled in tears and he brought his hands up to his face to cover it, but as he did he felt arms around him. He tried to pull away but the arms held tight, so he just accepted it. The feeling of comfort overwhelmed him, and he began to sob in earnest, finally putting his arms around Doug as well and clutching him tightly as he cried._

Tom was finally asleep, but he was restless. He tossed and turned, waking every once and awhile and raising his head, sure that he had heard something, but there was never anything there. A loud creaking noise suddenly brought him full awake, sitting halfway up in the bed and looking around the dark room, but again he found no cause for the sound. He settled back down on his side under the covers, sighing deeply and then rolling over onto his other side. He found himself staring straight into the eyes of Lee Eckert.

"Hey there, buddy!" Eckert shouted, grinning like a madman.

Hanson tried to scramble away, but Eckert was on top of him in a second, one large hand clamped down over Tom's mouth. Eckert brought his sweaty, dirty face down close to Tom's and put a finger up to his own lips, uttering "Shhhhh." Tom whimpered beneath the filthy hand pressing down on his face, causing Eckert to tighten his grip on the younger man's face. He brought his mouth down to Tom's ear and breathed heavily into it, whispering gutturally, "I told you I could come back."

Beneath Eckert's hand, Tom screamed, his eyes wide with terror. Eckert just laughed in response, then brought his other hand up holding a large knife that glinted in the moonlight streaming through the window. "Now," he said putting the blade against Tom's throat, "I'm gonna take my hand off your mouth, and I'm gonna put this knife…" He pressed the blade harder for emphasis. "…right here where I can get to it when I need it." He put the knife down on the window ledge above the headboard. "So I'm gonna take my hand away now…and you're going to keep your fucking mouth shut. Right?" He leaned over farther so that his face was inches from Tom's. "Right?"

Tom nodded fearfully, and Eckert let go of his face. He grabbed Tom's hands and pinned them above his head, then brought his mouth down to Tom's neck and began biting and sucking it. He ran his tongue up to Tom's ear and whispered again, causing a shiver to run through the trapped man's body. "Mmmm…you remember how good this feels, don't you?" Suddenly he was looking down on Tom from above again, then brought his mouth down hard against Tom's. Using just one large hand now to hold his victim's hands above his head, he used his other hand to pry Tom's jaw open while his lips devoured the tender ones underneath him. Eckert's hot, vile tasting tongue probed and explored Hanson's mouth.

Tom gagged and writhed beneath the heavy man, trying desperately to pull away from the disgusting invasion, but Eckert persisted and let go of Tom's hands so that he could reach between their bodies and grope Tom's genitals. Eckert was grinding himself against the smaller body beneath him, and Tom was finding it harder and harder to breathe. Eckert was back to nuzzling Tom's neck again and mumbling against his throat, "Gonna fuck you, cop…gonna fuck you into next week and back."

Eckert's hands were reaching between Tom's legs again and his tongue was making its way down his bare chest as Tom reached above, stretching his arm as far as it would go and praying as his fingers felt all around the window ledge. Finally he was rewarded with the feeling of cool metal beneath his hand. He grasped the knife and brought it down fast and hard, plunging it deep into Eckert's back. But Eckert did not stop his assault. Tom tried to pull the knife out to strike again, but it would not budge. He stared in horror as Eckert rose above him, laughing. "You dumb fuck!" he roared. "Haven't learned your lesson yet, have you?!" he shouted as he reached his arm around behind him and pulled the knife from his back. He held it in front of him…the thick, dark blood oozing along the blade and dripping onto Tom's chest. Eckert stuck his tongue out and drew it up the blade, lapping up his own blood. He looked at Tom again and howled with laughter. "Praying, are ya, Tommy? God ain't gonna help you now." He leaned in close and clamped his blood coated mouth over Tom's once more. Tom felt the bile rising in his throat as Eckert's lips and tongue meshed with his, spreading the blood in and around his mouth. His attacker then moved his mouth to Tom's ear and whispered, "Are you ready to die now?" Tom watched, terror stricken, as Eckert rose up with the knife and then brought it down fast, swiftly and cleanly slicing Tom's throat from left to right.

Tom bolted upright in the bed, clutching his throat, his long, loud scream echoing off the walls of the hospital room. He gasped for breath, looking around wildly but not really seeing anything, and then wrapped his arms around himself as the tears began to fall.

Doug had been sitting in a chair near the bed reading while Tom slept. His friend had dozed off soon after Doug had returned to the room following Detective Michaels' questioning. Now, Tom's sudden scream had startled him to attention. He jumped to his feet, his magazine falling to the floor, trying to figure out what was going on. When he saw Tom sitting up in bed and crying again, he wasn't sure what to do. He approached the bed and asked tentatively, "Hey…Tom…what…what's wrong, man?"

He reached out to touch Tom's shoulder, but his friend cowered and yelled, "Get off of me! Get the fuck off of me!!"

Doug looked around the room nervously, wondering what to do and hoping someone else would come to help as Tom rocked back and forth, his arms tight around himself, uttering, "No, no, no, no…" over and over again.

Doug was grateful when he saw a nurse, an older woman in purple scrubs, enter the room. She saw his apprehension and quickly calmed him when she said, "It's okay, hon'…this happens a lot. Usually his mom's here though." She went over to Tom and moved in front of him so that he could see her. "Tom? Hey…it's Helen…it's okay." She put her hands on his shoulders. "It's okay…you're okay…it's just another dream."

Tom had stopped rocking but was shaking badly. He looked up at the woman. His wide, brown eyes were still wet with tears, but he seemed to calm down when he saw her. "I…I…" he stammered.

The nurse gently pushed him back to lie down on the bed. "C'mon, sweetie…lie down. It's okay. I'm going to get you something to help you go back to sleep, okay?" He looked up at her and nodded. She smiled and said, "Okay. You talk to your friend here, and I'll be right back."

Helen walked toward the door, but stopped first to whisper to Doug, "Don't worry, hon'. I know it's scary, but he's okay." She turned back to look at Tom who was now lying back against the pillows with his eyes closed, breathing heavily, his arms still wrapped around himself. "Happens every night. Sometimes during the day too if he's really tired." She sighed. "I'll be back with a sedative. Go on and talk to him. It helps." With that she left the room.

Doug stood feeling helpless. He really didn't know what to do or to say, but he knew his friend needed him. He pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and sat down. For a moment he just sat there, clasping and unclasping his hands nervously. Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke, "Hey…Tom. You…you okay now?"

Tom opened his eyes but did not look at Doug. He reached down for the sheet and pulled it up higher around himself, and then shook his head slowly. "No…I don't think I am," he said, barely audible, fighting back the tears again.

"Well…um…" Doug looked around, hoping the nurse would come back soon. "Maybe you need to talk to that guy…that uh…psychologist guy! Yeah…that psychologist guy."

"Yeah," Tom muttered. "Maybe." The tears were falling freely now. "Stupid fucking dreams." He sniffed and leaned back again, closing his eyes.

Doug didn't know if he should keep talking or stay quiet. He looked toward the door again and was relieved to see the nurse coming back into the room. She went over to Tom and injected a sedative into his IV, then patted him on the shoulder. "There you go, sweetie. You'll feel better in no time." He swallowed hard and nodded, and she pulled the blanket up over the sheet. "Just close your eyes and let the medicine help, okay?" She watched as he settled under the covers, closing his eyes and turning to the side just a bit, his hands folded under his cheek. She whispered to Doug, "He should be asleep in a few minutes. You could go ahead home then."

"But…" said Doug, "but what if…I mean…"

"He won't wake up. Not until mid-morning…maybe closer to noon. Believe me…" Helen looked at her patient again sadly. "It's always like this."

Doug watched her leave the room and then moved to the more comfortable chair that he had been occupying before Tom's outburst. He picked up his magazine and tried to concentrate on it, but the words didn't make sense anymore. After several minutes of watching Tom, he felt confident that his friend was now sleeping soundly, so he reluctantly left to go home for the night, knowing that he would not be getting much sleep himself.

* * *

"Adam! Come on in. Have a seat." Detective Michaels motioned to Captain Fuller to enter his office while he wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Tuna salad," he said as he wadded up the paper bag, wrapper, and napkin into a large ball and tossed it into the trash can.

"From downstairs?" Fuller asked as he sat down. "Brave man."

Michaels laughed. "I should know better, right? The wife quit packing my lunch years ago…says to make it myself or take my chances at the deli." The detective shrugged. "Lesser of two evils."

Fuller chuckled, then asked, "So…what have you got?"

Michaels sighed and shuffled through the papers on his desk before finding the one he wanted. He picked it up and handed it over to the captain. He talked as Fuller looked it over. "We have reason to believe he's hanging out over in Langston. One of our informants in the area says he's seen him in the Toro Bar a few times. I've got some guys canvassing the neighborhood…checking out the apartment buildings and such."

"It says here he opened a bank account at Tanner Financial two days ago," said Fuller. "What the hell?"

"Yeah, I know. He used a post office box for an address though. We're staking it out, but what I don't get is…"

"He's just out running around," Fuller interrupted. "He's not even trying to hide."

"Right," answered Michaels.

"And why did he let Hanson live after attacking him? He knew Tom could identify him. And he left his DNA all over the place. It's almost like he wants to get caught."

"Or he doesn't care either way," said Michaels. "Like Hanson said…he's a career criminal…knows he's going away for something eventually…figured he'd make it worth his while…get his revenge on the kid first thing after he got out."

Fuller shook his head. "Son of a bitch." He sighed. "Well, at least if he's not trying to hide, we ought to be catching up to him pretty soon."

* * *

Tom sat propped up in the hospital bed, waiting. His stomach was in knots, and he had a headache that just would not go away no matter how many pain killers he had been given. His hands were in his lap, twisting nervously around each other as he tried to keep them from shaking. He had put this off long enough. He looked up as a tall, thin, grey haired man entered the room. He looked to be in his late fifties and had a pleasant smile on his face as he approached Tom. "Hey, Tom. How are you? I'm Dr. Hirsch," he said, extending his hand.

_Here we go_, Tom thought as he half-heartedly shook the psychologist's hand.

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**Finally, an update! Thanks for waiting patiently. I think I can get another chapter up pretty soon to make up for the delay. :-) Please keep leaving reviews! It really does make me want to write more when I get feedback from you. Thanks! :-)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Apologies for the double posting/alerts. I noticed something was missing after I uploaded this chapter the first time.**

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_Here we go, Tom thought as he half-heartedly shook the psychologist's hand. _

Dr. Hirsch pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down. "How are you doing today?" he asked.

"I'm okay…thanks," Tom responded flatly, looking down at his hands.

The doctor studied him for a moment before saying, "Well, first off, let me say that I'm sorry we're meeting under these circumstances. I know you've been through an awful experience. But I'm confident that we can find some ways to help you heal from it." Getting no response, Dr. Hirsch continued, "I've been in close touch with Dr. Marcus, and I've spoken with your mother as well. You know she's pretty worried about you."

At the mention of his mother, Tom looked up but did not say anything.

"They've been anxious for me to see you," Dr. Hirsch said, "but I didn't want to force it until you were ready." He paused, then went on as Hanson remained silent. "You've been here for four days now. What made you decide you were ready to talk to me?"

Tom looked down again and mumbled, "They won't let me leave until I do."

"So, why didn't you ask for me earlier? I mean, I know you're not able to leave yet, but…it would have sped up the process."

Tom shrugged slightly, staring at his hands while he scratched at one of his old IV sites that had scabbed over and was itching. Then he looked at the doctor. "I don't know what to do," he said simply, fighting back tears.

Dr. Hirsch observed the young man in front of him. Dr. Marcus had informed him of Hanson's ordeal…at least what little he knew beyond the injuries that the officer had suffered. The psychologist noted the bruises that marred Tom's face, neck, and arms as well as the ligature marks on his wrists. It was obvious that he had endured a horrific attack, but Hirsch knew that the worst of it went unseen. The physical injuries would heal in time, but the psychological damage would prove more difficult to repair. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean…I just…" Hanson let out an exasperated sigh as one tear rolled down his face. "When I get out of here. I can't go home where…where they got me. I'm afraid to be alone. I can't go back to work and have everyone staring at me and knowing what happened. I just…I can't do anything…normal…again."

"Listen to me, Tom. _This _is normal. How you're feeling right _now_ is normal. And I'm going to help you so that you can handle the things that are going to come up…places and people and situations. You're right…things have changed, and it's going to be hard. I won't lie and say that it's not. But people _do _survive things like this and are able to live good lives afterward."

Tom was shaking his head. "I don't think I can," he said quietly. "That's why…that's why I didn't want to see you. I knew after that…they'd make me go home."

The doctor sighed sympathetically. "We're not going to send you home until you're ready, Tom, believe me. And we're not going to send you off to fend for yourself. We're going to help you through this. You have a lot of people who care about you and who want to see you get better."

"I know." Tom nodded, sniffing back tears, his head bowed.

"The fact that you're here in the first place," Dr. Hirsch said as he leaned forward again, "shows me how strong you are. You've hung on and made it this far. No matter what happens from here on out…you're a survivor, Tom."

Tom looked up at the man, wanting desperately to believe him. This man was a stranger to him, but he was offering hope, and right now he was the only option Tom could see.

"Can you…can you make the dreams go away?"

* * *

"Penhall!" Captain Fuller's voice boomed throughout the chapel as he headed out of his office toward the exit.

Doug looked up from the papers he was reading and saw the captain go by in a blur. "What's up?" he asked as he stood up from the desk.

Fuller stopped by the front door and turned around to face the officer. "Come on. We got him."

There was no need for any further explanation. Doug grabbed his weapon and strapped it on, following the captain out of the chapel.

Once in the car and on their way, Fuller filled Doug in on what was happening. Detective Michaels' officers had finally located Lee Eckert in one of the apartment buildings in Langston. They had set up surveillance and were now sure that Eckert was currently in the apartment.

"Cap'n, what the fuck? His _name_ is on the lease?" Doug asked. "That doesn't make any sense!"

"I know, Doug," the captain replied. "I don't know what kind of game this guy is playing or if he's just plain crazy. But we're gonna find out."

They pulled up to the curb behind two other unmarked police vehicles. Michaels and his men were waiting for them to arrive before they went in after Eckert.

"What have you got, Mark?" Fuller asked as he got out of the car.

"He's in the Lockwood Apartments…block and a half up…number 324….been in there all morning. You guys ready?"

"Hell yeah!" Doug answered, already striding up the street.

"Doug! Hang on!" Michaels called out.

Doug stopped in his tracks and looked back.

"My guys and I are going in first. I'm letting you two come along as a favor, okay? But don't get in the way. Stay in the back until we have the situation under control. Got it?"

Doug shifted his gaze between his captain and the detective but did not answer.

"_Got_ it?" Michaels repeated.

Doug fixed the detective with an angry stare but knew from the look on his face that he was not going to win this one. "Got it," he said evenly, then stepped aside and motioned for the other officers to lead the way. Michaels passed by as well, never breaking eye contact with Penhall.

Fuller caught up to Doug and grabbed him by the arm. "God damn it, Doug! Settle down! We need to do this right!"

"But, Cap'n they…"

"Save it! If you're gonna blow this, Penhall, then I'm leaving you here. I'm not letting you run up there and do something stupid to compromise this case!" Fuller looked his officer in the eye. "Is that clear?" he asked sternly.

"Perfectly," Doug shot back.

"All right then." Fuller let go of Doug's arm. "Let's do this."

The two men quickly caught up to the others as they were entering the apartment building. Michaels led the way up a dark, dank stairwell to the third floor. The group made their way down the empty hallway, weapons drawn, until they reached a door with the number 324 on it. Doug and Fuller stood back as Michaels banged on the door and yelled, "Police!" He then turned and nodded at his officers, one of whom threw his shoulder against the door.

The door burst open and the officers rushed in, ready for a confrontation. But all they encountered was Lee Eckert sitting in an easy chair and sipping a beer in front of the television. He did not appear to even notice the three men surrounding him with guns aimed at his head. The officers all shouted at once, "On the floor! Get on the floor!" but Eckert did not move. One officer approached Eckert and grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him out of the chair and then forcing him face down onto the floor. The other quickly joined his partner and together they secured handcuffs on the ex-con.

The two officers pulled Eckert to his feet where he was face to face with Detective Michaels. "Lee Eckert, you're under arrest for aggravated assault, kidnapping, and aggravated sexual assault…and that's just for starters."

Eckert did not appear phased by the activity or the detective's words. He snickered, "Oh yeah? Just who did I 'assault'?"

The officers had entered the apartment and apprehended Eckert so quickly that Fuller and Doug had not yet had a chance to respond. But hearing Eckert's question spurred Doug into action. He was across the room in a flash, grabbing Eckert by the shirtfront and slamming him face forward against a nearby wall. "You know exactly who, you motherfucking son of a bitch!" Doug snarled into his ear. "My partner…Tom Hanson."

"Doug!" shouted Fuller, but his officer did not seem to hear him.

The side of Eckert's face was pressed against the wall, but he turned his eyes toward Doug. "Oh yeahhhh…I remember you! What are you so worked up about? The two of you got something going?"

Doug pulled the man back and slammed him against the wall again. "Shut the fuck up!"

"Doug!" the captain yelled again.

"Man, I'm sorry," said Eckert with a smirk. "I never would have fucked him if I'd known he was _your_ bitch."

At that Doug drew his gun and put it to Eckert's head. "You think that's funny, you sick son of a bitch?! Huh?!"

"Officer Penhall!" bellowed Michaels from directly behind Doug. "Put your weapon down! Now!"

Doug turned to look at the detective. Michaels glared at him, his face red with anger. Doug glared back, his own face just as red and just as angry. Slowly, he put his gun back into his holster. He then pulled Eckert away from the wall and shoved him toward the waiting officers, one of whom then escorted the laughing ex-con out of the apartment. The other officer took his position outside the door to keep the scene secure until the CSIs could arrive to search the apartment.

The tension in the room was thick. Each of the three men left there was fuming, but none of them spoke. The crackle of Michaels' radio broke the silence. "Prisoner secured, sir. We're on our way." Michaels acknowledged the call and then flipped the radio off. He looked at Fuller, then at Penhall, and left the room without another word.

Doug and Fuller continued to seethe in silence for a few moments after the detective left, neither one looking at the other. Finally, the captain spoke, sounding calmer than he looked. "Doug…"

"I don't want to hear it," Penhall responded through clenched teeth.

"Doug, listen to me."

"I don't care what you have to say. That piece of shit had it coming and more."

Fuller stunned the officer when he replied, "I agree."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. _But_…if that's how it's going to be…if you're going to fly off the handle every time he provokes you…and he _will_ provoke you…you're going to damage the case. You can't let _him_ make _you_ blow this."

Doug sighed and crossed his arms, fixing the captain with a hard stare.

"You have to do this right, Doug," Fuller continued. "For Hanson. He can't do it. You're going to have to do it for him. Don't blow it." He then turned and went out the door, leaving Doug alone in the room.

* * *

Doug met Dr. Marcus as the doctor was coming out of Tom's room. "Hi, Doug. Good to see you again," he said as he passed by.

Entering the room, Doug saw that Tom was awake and sitting up in bed. He looked more alert than he had since arriving at the hospital, but just as despondent. "Hey, man…how's it going?"

Tom looked at him and smiled a little. "Okay," he said quietly.

"Saw the doctor on my way in. Everything okay?"

Tom looked down. "Yeah…I guess. He just…had some test results."

Doug looked puzzled. "What kind of tests?"

"STDs," Tom replied, his eyes cast downward as he fidgeted with the sheet.

Doug's stomach dropped. _Jesus_. He hadn't even thought about the possibility of that. "Aw man," he said. "Shit. I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Tom uttered without looking up.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Tom shrugged. "I guess."

"So what did he say?" Doug asked.

"So far everything looks okay. Some of it…he can't really be sure yet…it's too soon." He sighed and bit his lip, determined not to cry again in front of his friend. But he couldn't stop his hands from shaking as he continued, "I have to keep getting tested…every few months…for HIV…to know for sure."

Doug sat silent, not sure what to say. It was all he could do to keep from heading down to the police station and killing Eckert with his bare hands. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"Yeah…thanks…I know." Tom looked up. "It'll be okay," he said, smiling a little again. "I…uh…I talked to that psychologist this morning."

"Oh yeah?" Doug exclaimed, brightening. "Good for you! How did it go?"

"It was all right. He's a nice guy. I think…I don't know. Maybe he can help a little. He said he can."

Doug smiled. It was good to see his friend encouraged about something and feeling hopeful. "That's great, man. I'm really glad." He had intended to give Tom the news about Eckert's arrest, but he wasn't sure how he would take it, and so he decided to wait and let Tom enjoy this moment of optimism while it lasted.

The two of them made some more small talk before Tom settled down in the bed to rest and quickly fell asleep. Soon after, his mother arrived, and Doug left Tom under her watchful eye as he left the hospital and headed for the police station.

* * *

**I hope this chapter will hold you over for a little bit, but don't worry. I promise I'm not one of those writers who leaves a story unfinished. :-) It won't be that long until a new one is up. Thanks again to everyone who is reading...the ones who have been here for a while as well as the ones just discovering the story. Please leave a review if you're so inclined. I love hearing what you think and if you're enjoying it. :-)**


	14. Chapter 14

_The two of them made some more small talk before Tom settled down in the bed to rest and quickly fell asleep. Soon after, his mother arrived, and Doug left Tom under her watchful eye as he left the hospital and headed for the police station._

Doug walked down the hall of the police station, knowing exactly where he was heading. Interrogation Room 4. Lee Eckert was waiting there…alone. He had agreed to talk to them, waiving his right to counsel. Detective Michaels and Captain Fuller were in the observation room and looked up as Doug entered.

"How's Hanson?" Fuller asked.

"Seems a little better, I think. He's been talking to the shrink," Doug answered. "So…" He nodded toward the two-way window. "Has he said anything?"

"We're just about to go in," said Michaels. "And by 'we' I mean Adam and I."

"What?!" Doug bellowed. "Cap'n…!"

"Sorry, Doug," Fuller replied. "Not this time. Besides the fact that I apparently can't trust you right now to follow orders, I also think he's going to be more cooperative if he doesn't have you to try to provoke into doing something."

"And _he_…" Michaels added as he gestured to the officer standing by the door inside the interrogation room, "is going to make sure you stay out of there."

Doug set his jaw, resigned to the fact that there was nothing he could do to change their minds. "Can I at least watch?" he asked evenly.

"You can watch," replied Michaels. "Just stay out of there. Come on, Adam. Let's get this started."

The captain gave Doug a final stern look as he followed the detective out of the room. Doug knew by that look that he needed to resolve himself to staying out of it, no matter what went on in the other room. But he also knew that eventually he was going to get his chance at Eckert, and he was going to make it worth his while when that chance came.

Michaels and Fuller entered the interrogation room and sat down at the table opposite of Lee Eckert who was sitting there looking as calm as if he was waiting for a bus. "Gentlemen," he greeted them with a smile.

Fuller could feel the anger rising inside of him. This was not going to go well; he could already feel it. And he wondered if something as simple as one police officer was going to be enough to keep Doug from charging into the room at some point. If fact, he wondered if that was going to be enough to keep _him_ from doing something he would regret.

"All right, Eckert. Here's what we know," Michaels began. "We know you and two other guys grabbed Officer Hanson outside of his apartment building Tuesday night. We know you drove him out to Lotus Park and restrained him, then beat him, and you sexually assaulted him. Then you left him out there to die." The detective looked at the ex-con. "Did I leave anything out?"

Eckert laughed. "Yeah…quite a few things, I think. And you have the facts fucked up."

"Like what?"

"First of all, these other guys…you bringing them in on this too? Where are they?"

"Well now," Michaels replied. "That's where you can help us…and yourself…out. We can't seem to figure out who they were. You might want to think about giving them up and spreading the blame around a bit. Unless you want to go down for all of it yourself."

"Yeahhh…I don't think I'm gonna be going down for anything on this one, _Detective,_" Eckert smirked, "'cause I didn't do anything wrong."

This time it was Fuller who laughed. "Come on, Eckert. Your DNA is all over the place. Not to mention the fact that Hanson ID'd you."

"DNA?" Eckert scoffed. "What's that prove? Just that we had sex, that's all. I didn't force the guy to do anything."

"Yeah right," said Michaels. "I'm sure he enjoyed the ropes and the broken ribs and the ruptured spleen and all the rest of it. I'm sure he did everything willingly."

"As a matter of fact, he _did_ seem to be enjoying himself. He did a lot of screaming, but all my partners do that," Eckert laughed.

Fuller was seething and finding it hard to remain a good example for his officer that he knew was watching everything from the two-way mirrored window. "Come on, Eckert. No one's going to buy that. Tell us who helped you out and we'll make sure they are held accountable for this as well. You don't want to take all the blame."

"Told you, man, I didn't do anything. Except have sex with the guy. But he wanted to…said he missed me."

"What the hell does that mean?" Fuller asked angrily.

"Means we had a thing going back when he was…undercover. Why else do you think I would have told him anything about that bitch I killed? He had me snowed…made me think I could trust him…we were gonna be together and all that shit. Asshole kept giving me all these blows jobs, getting me all worked up until I finally let him screw me." Eckert laughed. "He wasn't that good at it though. So we flipped and I started giving it to him. Man, he liked that a lot…being the bitch on the bottom." Then the man grew serious. "I trusted him, and he ratted me out. Gave me up and never even acted like it bothered him. But I knew better. He had feeling s for me. But he didn't want anyone to find out about us. You know…he came to see me in prison."

Michaels looked at Fuller and Fuller raised his eyebrows to convey that he did not know if that claim was true or not. He looked back at Eckert and asked, "Now why would he do that?"

Eckert leaned back in his chair. "To tell me he was sorry. To tell me he still had feelings for me."

"That's bullshit, Eckert," Fuller said.

"Yeah well…if you say so. Fact is, you don't have any proof of what really happened the other night."

Michaels leaned in and said, "Then why don't you tell us what 'really' happened?"

"Okay," replied Eckert. "I was there. At his place. I was waiting for him. After that hot-headed friend of his dropped him off, I stopped him before he went in…asked him to talk. He was surprised to see me, but he said yeah…okay. So we went over to my place. We talked…then we started fooling around…next thing you know we're in my bed and he's moaning and screaming. Yeah, he probably got hurt a little…he likes it rough." The man laughed. "He likes it a lot…came all over the place while I was fucking the hell out of him. But that was it. He left my place just fine. I didn't beat on him or anything…even though…he probably likes that too. I'm just not into it."

Fuller and Michaels had been listening to the man talk but were too stunned to say anything to interrupt him, and now that he had stopped talking they still were too shocked to speak. Finally, Michaels shook his head as though he were clearing away cobwebs and asked, "Are you crazy? Do you think anyone is going to believe that bullshit story? You assaulted a _cop_, Eckert! He's going to tell what happened, and your story is going to look like a fairy tale next to it. No one's going to believe you."

Eckert shrugged. "You got any proof that says something else happened? You've got my spunk up his ass…doesn't prove it was against his will. You've got these two 'mystery guys' that supposedly helped me attack him. Any evidence they were there? " He looked at the two men sitting across the table from him. "Nah…I didn't think so."

"Okay, Eckert," said Michaels. "I'm gonna humor you. I'll run with this. I'm sending the CSIs back over to your place. Now you tell me just exactly where they're going to find any evidence that _your_ story is true."

"In the laundry hamper," Eckert replied without missing a beat.

Michaels eyed him. "What?"

"That's where the sheets are from that night. There's some blood…some other stuff…all that DNA crap you guys are always going on about. It's just the top sheet…not a lot, but enough, I'm sure. The bottom sheet…well, it was pretty much ruined. I went ahead and threw that out the next morning."

"Yeah, okay, whatever. So you say Officer Hanson was fine when you last saw him. When was that?"

"When he left my place…around 2:30 in the morning. He was kind of pissed. I told him I didn't want to see him anymore…that I'd just wanted to talk but he had pushed me into having sex again and I wasn't ready for that. I offered to drive him home, but he took off mad. Said he'd catch the bus or something. That's the last time I saw him. Too bad…I guess somebody else…maybe your two mystery guys…attacked him on his way home like you said…took him out to the park and all. Wasn't me though."

"So why would he say it was?" asked Michaels.

"Got me," said Eckert, shrugging. "I guess he didn't want you guys to know what he'd done. Didn't want you to find out he had sex with me willingly."

Michaels sighed. "Okay, we're done. Dan," he said to the officer at the door, "get him out of here."

The officer came over and pulled Eckert up. As he was leading him out the door, the prisoner looked back over his shoulder and said, "Hey, tell him 'hi' for me!" He was then led out the door, laughing. A few seconds later Doug entered the room and sat down where Eckert had been sitting.

Captain Fuller looked at Penhall. Surprisingly, the young officer appeared calm and collected. Fuller couldn't help but wonder what kind of a reaction he had expressed in the observation room, but he was proud that he had been able to get it under control before coming in to see them. He wondered how long this control would last, however.

"It's all bullshit. You guys know that, right?" Doug asked.

"He tells a good story, Doug," said Michaels. "And he's right. We have no leads on these other two guys. And we really don't have any evidence to support the claim that Eckert is the one who beat Hanson. Or that…the sex wasn't consensual."

He was trying…Doug really was trying to control himself. So he counted to ten before saying, "I hope you aren't saying what I think you're saying."

"I'm not," replied Michaels. "I'm not saying I believe him. I'm not saying Hanson is lying. But what I _am_ saying is that to a jury either story could be true. They might believe a cop versus a con, but they might not. We've got to make our case stronger, or I'm afraid we won't win. Hell, I'm not even sure the D.A. will charge him with anything at this point."

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me!" This time it was Fuller, not Doug, who was having an outburst. "Mark, this is ridiculous! This asshole can make up any kind of bullshit he wants, and we're supposed to take our chances and hope that a jury believes _our_ story and not his?!"

"No, we're _not_, Adam. That's exactly what I just said we we're _not_ going to do. We need to get some more evidence and build the case up. Or preferably, find these guys that Hanson says were there too." The detective stood up. "We've got 48 hours before we have to charge him or let him go. I'd suggest we get moving."

Although it was getting late in the evening, the men knew that the only possible lead they could get on the other two unidentified attackers could come from just one place.

* * *

"I said no."

Detective Michaels sighed and ran his hand across his face. "Ma'am, we just need to talk to him for a few minutes."

Helen crossed her arms and fixed the detective with a hard stare across the nurses' station. "I told you. His mom's already left and he's settled in for the night. I don't want you getting him upset."

"Honestly, ma'am, I can't promise that won't happen, but I'll do my best. The thing is…we need to talk to him right now." Michaels looked at the woman, knowing that he could force her to let them in, but he would rather that he had her buy in on this. "Look…Helen…we really appreciate how you're looking after Tom. I know you have your job to do, but so do we. We're trying to get the guys that did this to him. And time is of the essence. You could really help us out…help us get the information we need…by letting us see him tonight."

The nurse seemed to soften her look a bit. She looked from the detective to Doug and said, "You there….what's you name again? Doug? You're his friend, right? You're going to look after him? Make sure everything goes okay?"

"Yes ma'am," Doug replied.

Helen looked back at Michaels. "Okay. But you be careful. If I have to come in there…"

"You won't. We'll make it quick and as easy as possible," he responded.

"All right then. Go ahead. But don't you forget I'm right out here."

Michaels smiled as he turned to go into the room. "We could never forget that, ma'am."

Doug and the detective entered the darkened room, lit only by the light from the hallway and the blinking indicators on the monitors above the bed. Tom was lying halfway on his side turned away from them. They could not tell if he was asleep or not, so rather than speaking and possibly frightening him, Doug turned on the small lamp that was sitting on a table near the bed. Its soft glow spread low across the room, and Tom stirred in the bed, inhaling deeply and turning over to face them, blinking his eyes and stretching his arms. "Hey," he said faintly, then yawned.

"Hi, Tom," said Michaels.

"Hey, man," said Doug. "Sorry to wake you up."

Tom pushed himself up in the bed against the pillows. "It's okay. I wasn't asleep yet. What's up?"

"Well," Doug started, looking at Michaels and back at Tom, "we uh…we need to ask you some more questions." He pulled a chair over and sat down next to the bed, and Michaels did the same.

Hearing Doug's words, Tom looked a little uneasy. "Right now? What do you mean? What kind of questions?"

"About the two guys that helped Eckert," answered Michaels.

Before the detective had finished his sentence, Tom was shaking his head. "No…no!" He looked back and forth between the two men. "I told you…I don't want anything more to do with it. I'm done!"

Doug tried to calm his friend. "C'mon, Tom…we need to do this."

"Why?! It happened to _me_, Doug! It's _my_ business!"

"Tom," said Michaels, "this isn't something that we can ignore. It just doesn't work that way. You know that."

"We've got Eckert, Tom," added Doug apprehensively, afraid of what kind of a reaction he was going to get.

"What?" Tom asked, shocked. His expression turned from one of anger to one of fear and distress. His face fell as he tried to hold back the tears. He looked at his partner and asked pleadingly, "Why? I told you…God, Doug, why?" He put his face in his hands as his anguish overtook him and the tears came.

Doug felt miserable, caught between a rock and a hard place. He was doing the very thing he didn't want to do…upsetting his friend, and yet he knew he had to get the information. He knew in the end it would help Tom, but right now all it was doing was hurting him. At a loss for what to do, he simply sat silently.

Michaels finally broke the silence. "Tom, listen…I hate to sound harsh, but this has to be done. You don't have a choice in the matter."

Tom lifted his face out of his hands to look at the detective. His demeanor had changed back to anger again. "No shit!" he spat out. "I don't have a choice? That's been happening a lot lately! And I'm getting a little sick of it!" He straightened up in the bed, wiped his face with the back of his hand, and then crossed his arms. "Fine. What do you want to know?" he said evenly.

Michaels sighed and glanced at Doug before beginning his questioning. "Okay…you told us before that you didn't get a good look at the other guys. Did you see anything at all about them? Race? Height? Build? Anything at all?"

"No."

"Did they speak? Was there anything about their voices? Or did Eckert call them by name?"

"No."

The detective sighed again. "All right…how about…"

"Wait," Tom interjected quietly without looking at the man.

Michaels stopped talking and asked, "What is it, Tom? Do you remember something?"

_Hanson managed to catch the eye of the other man who was holding him down by the shoulders, but the eyes were void of any compassion…_

"It was dark," Tom began softly, still staring straight ahead. "The moon was out, but…but…it was still too dark to see much." Tom blinked and shook his head, trying to remember. He looked at Michaels. "But…he was white…long hair. He had a tattoo. On his left temple. A lightening bolt."

The detective was taking notes and looked up. "That's great, Tom! Excellent information. Anything else?"

Tom looked down. "No."

"Okay. How about the car? Do you what kind? How many doors? Anything like that?"

…_he heard the front door open as the driver got out. Both back doors opened, and the men on either side got out…_

"Four doors," Tom responded.

"Good…good. What about the color? How old? Was it a large or small hood?" Michaels asked.

Tom's head jerked up to face the detective, eyes wide and panicked. His breath was starting to become labored.

_The men holding Tom pulled him away from the side of the car, turned him around, and pushed him face down over the hood...he was pinned tightly against the car by Eckert's buddy and was having trouble breathing. He sensed Eckert approaching him from behind and felt his hands sliding up his back, pushing his t-shirt up._

"It…uh…" He looked down at his hands that were shaking now. "It was a big hood. Brown…light brown."

"Anything else?" asked Michaels.

_He picked a point on the car's windshield and focused on it, staring intently as he tried to imagine being home, safe and secure, doing anything at all except this. Anywhere but here. Anything but this._

A visible shudder ran through Tom's body. He uttered, "There was a crack in the windshield…by the rear view mirror." He looked at Michaels. "That's it. That's all."

"Okay…are you sure? Because…"

"Yes, I'm sure! That's it! I'm done!"

"Ahem!" The sound, loud and firm, came from behind Doug and Detective Michaels. They turned around to find Helen standing in the doorway, arms folded and a very displeased look on her face.

The men turned their attention back to Tom. "I think we have enough for now," said Michaels. "Thank you, Tom. I know it was difficult, but believe me…you've been a big help." He stood and turned to leave.

Doug stood as well, but stayed by the bed and looked at Tom who was now settling back down under the covers, turning slightly away and lying as he had been when they first arrived. "Hey, man…you okay?"

"Yes."

"Do you uh…you want me to stay awhile until you…"

"No."

Doug tried again. "Are you sure you…"

"Go away, Doug," Tom replied without looking around.

Doug stood for a moment more before heading out the door, Helen's hard gaze following him all the way.

* * *

**Well how about that?! Not only did I get a chapter done sooner than I thought I would, it's the longest one ever! :-) That deserves a little review, doesn't it? :-D**


	15. Chapter 15

_"Go away, Doug," Tom replied without looking around._

_Doug stood for a moment more before heading out the door, Helen's hard gaze following him all the way._

After Doug left, Helen approached Tom's bed and leaned over, tucking the sheets around him. He did not stir, although she knew he was awake. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and asked, "You okay, hon'?" He nodded his head. "Do you need anything?" He shook his head. "Do you want me to stay awhile?" He nodded his head, and so she turned the small lamp off and settled into a chair. He never turned to face her, but she soon heard his breathing even out and knew that he was sleeping. The older nurse checked his blankets again and quietly left the room.

The next morning, Dr. Hirsch walked into Tom's room to find him sitting up in bed looking at a magazine, but his attention seemed focused elsewhere.

"Good morning, Tom," the doctor greeted him.

"Morning," Tom said, putting the magazine down on the bedside table.

"I heard you had kind of a rough night," said Hirsch as he took a seat.

Tom looked at him with tired eyes. "I guess," he said dully. "As usual."

"Want to tell me about it?"

"I have to, don't I? Isn't that how this works? I have no say in anything anymore."

"Come on, Tom," Dr. Hirsch said. "You know I'm on your side in all of this. I just want to help you get through it." He leaned over so he could look Hanson in the eyes. "We need to talk about things and be honest to do that."

Tom sighed, resigned to his situation. "They just…they came and asked me more questions. They're trying to catch everyone." He paused before adding, "They've already got Eckert."

Dr. Hirsch observed his patient. Tom had told him the basics of what had happened, and he knew his feelings about pursuing charges against those involved. "I know that's not what you want, Tom, but have you thought any more about our last conversation?"

"Yeah," Tom replied without looking up.

"And?"

"I don't know." Tom shook his head. "Damn it…I know…I…I have to, don't I?" He looked at the doctor.

"Yeah, you do, Tom." The doctor was glad to see that Tom seemed a little more accepting of it now. "But I promise you…I'm going to help you get through it. And your friends and your mom…we're all going to be with you the whole way. Okay?"

Tom nodded, biting his lip. "Okay," he said quietly. After a moment he seemed to brighten and said, "I think they're going to let me go home tomorrow. If…if you think it's okay."

Dr. Hirsh smiled. "I think it's great. Do you feel like you're ready?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna stay with my mom for a while. I'm still…you know…I don't really wanna…"

"I know. It's okay," said the doctor. "Let's just take small steps for now. You're making really great progress, Tom. I think you're going to be just fine."

Tom smiled, a little bit of light shining in his eyes, and said, "Thanks."

* * *

"Anything yet?"

"Nope. Sorry," CSI Angie Hicks replied to Doug's question. "It takes time."

"We don't _have_ time," Doug said as he leaned farther over her shoulder, trying to see the computer screen.

"Penhall! Get the hell off my back!" she said, irritated, as she squirmed away from him. "I'm doing the best that I can."

Doug backed away but sat down in a desk chair and rolled up next to the annoyed CSI.

Angie sighed. "Look. I know this is priority one, but you really didn't give me much to go on." She raised her eyebrows at him. "An old, brown car?"

"With four doors," Doug added.

"Yeah, that helps," she said, rolling her eyes. "White guy with long hair?"

"And a tattoo on his face."

"Lightning bolt on the left temple. Got it. But…I'm sorry. It's just not a lot to go on."

Doug ran his hand across his face. "I know," he said. "I'm sorry. I know you're doing your best. It's just…this guy's gonna walk in…" He checked his watch. "Less than 24 hours if we don't come up with something. The D.A. said we don't have enough to charge him."

Angie stared at the computer screen as it continued to search the various databases. "I think it's ridiculous. Just because this asshole makes up some bullshit story to throw doubt on the case…"

"Yeah," said Doug. "But…shit…then there's the damn sheet. How the _fuck _did he manage to pull that off?"

Angie shook her head. "I don't know. But it was there, just like he said it would be…his semen and Hanson's blood and semen on it." She hesitated before asking quietly, "Look…I don't know Hanson, but…do you…is there _any_ possibility that Eckert's telling the truth?"

Doug's eyes grew wide in surprise, the quickly narrowed in anger. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I'm just asking. Is there _any_ way it's possible?"

"No, it's not possible!" Doug shouted, standing up. "You people need to get your asses back over to that apartment and find the real evidence!"

"_What_ evidence?!" Angie shouted back, just as loud, and standing as well. "There _isn't_ any more! We've been over it and over it, and the only thing we found says your partner is lying!"

"You shut the fuck up!" Doug yelled, his finger in her face. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

"I know I've got a 'victim' who's not cooperating and a suspect with a pretty good version of the events!"

"You're supposed to be _helping_ us, not going off on some…"

"HEY!" a voice boomed from the doorway.

The officer and the CSI stopped shouting at each other and looked toward the door to find the lab director standing there with a very angry look on his face.

"Cut it out, you two! Hicks…in my office. Now!" the director commanded.

Angie gave Doug one last glare before following her supervisor out of the room, leaving the officer still fuming. With a frustrated sigh, he headed for the door but stopped in his tracks as he heard the computer behind him start beeping. He turned and walked back to the desk, leaning over to look at the blinking type on the screen.

"Match found."

* * *

Fuller, Penhall, Hicks, and Michaels sat around the conference table in Michaels' office, coffee and a half a box of doughnuts filling the space between them. "Okay, here's what we know," said the detective. "We got seven hits on the tattoo. Three of those guys are currently incarcerated, and one of them has been deceased for over a year. The other three all have spotty records, but nothing as violent and hardcore as this."

"Doesn't mean one of them didn't help. Tom said these other two didn't participate much," said Doug.

"I know," replied Michaels. "We can try to track them down for questioning, but unless Tom can identify one of them then we're going to have to hope for some kind of evidence linking one of them to the crime."

"What about the car?" asked Fuller.

"We don't have enough search factors to get a hit in the database on it," said Hicks. "We're going through the DMV records for the other three tattoo guys, but I haven't heard anything yet."

Michaels sighed. "We've only got a few hours left to hold Eckert."

Doug shook his head as he stood up. "Well, I gotta go. Tom should be home by now. I need to let him know what's going on."

"We'll keep you posted. Tell him I'll stop by later," said Fuller. "And Doug?"

"Yeah?"

"We're going to get them. We _are_ going to finish this."

* * *

Doug walked up to the house and rang the doorbell. He still wasn't sure how this was going to turn out, but he knew he had to do it. The door opened and Margaret Hanson smiled at him.

"Hi, Mrs. Hanson. I uh…is it okay if I see Tom?"

She gestured with her head toward the couch in the living room, then walked back into the kitchen, leaving Doug to peer into the house. He saw Tom sitting on the couch wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of lounge pants, drinking a glass of iced tea. Doug entered the house and closed the door behind him. Tom looked up at him but did not say anything.

"Hey, Tom," Doug began. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay," Tom answered.

Doug walked over and sat down in a recliner next to the couch. "You look good." The truth was, though, that his partner looked almost as bad as he had when he was first found a week ago. The bruises had turned all sorts of colors, the jagged stitches in his lips were prominent, and the wounds on his wrists were still angry looking despite having scabbed over. The only difference was that he was no longer covered in blood.

"Yeah?" asked Tom. "Thanks." He didn't believe it any more than Doug did, but he set his glass down and pulled his legs up so that he was sitting cross-legged on the couch and looked at his friend. "I'm sorry about the other night."

"Hey, don't be sorry, man," Doug answered. "I know how you feel. I mean…I don't really know…but…geeze, hell…I don't know what I'm trying to say."

Tom laughed. "It's okay. I feel better about it now. I talked to Dr. Hirsch a lot yesterday."

Doug felt a huge weight lift off of his shoulders. It was great to see Tom smiling and optimistic. And it seemed like he didn't hold a grudge either about their questioning that night. "Yeah? I'm really glad."

"Me too. I guess…I shouldn't have taken it out on you guys. I know you're just trying to help. I'm still not really happy about it, but…" Tom took a deep breath. "I know those guys need to be put behind bars. So…if I can help, then that's what I need to do."

"I know it's going to be hard. But we'll help you with it."

"I know," Tom replied. "I appreciate it. It's just…you don't know…I mean, you can't know…you don't have any idea what it's like to have this happen. Shit, _I_ still don't know how I feel about it. I just try to forget about it most of the time, but then I have nightmares and I can't do anything about that. I just figured this was something I could control…you know, whether or not I testified and everything. And I don't want to think about it anymore."

"But now you think you can do it? You want to?" Doug asked.

Tom smiled and nodded. "Yeah. I think I can."

Margaret appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Doug? You want some tea?"

"Sure, that'd be great!" he answered. "I can get it though." He got up and followed her into the kitchen. She already had a glass out and was pouring it for him when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the screen, then cursed under his breath.

"Everything okay?" Margaret asked.

"Huh? Oh yeah. Yeah, it's fine," he said, smiling. He took his glass and thanked her, then went back to his chair in the living room. But he had no idea what to do next.

"What's the matter?" asked Tom.

Doug thought a moment before speaking. Tom had finally come around to accepting the fact that they were going to prosecute these guys. He was feeling stronger about it and ready to do what he had to do. And now this. "You know, we're trying to find those other guys?"

"Yeah," Tom said apprehensively. "What about it?"

"And we had Eckert."

"Had?" Tom was beginning to feel nauseous.

Doug looked up at his friend and sighed. "I just got a text. They had to let him go."

* * *

**I know this one isn't very long. Sorry about that. I haven't updated in a while tho, and I really wanted to get something posted for you. I hope it will do for now. :-) And besides, I'm feeling the need for an ego boost after a couple of rough days, so some reviews will help. :-) Thanks again to everyone who is reading! I really appreciate it!**


	16. Chapter 16

_Doug looked up at his friend and sighed. "I just got a text. They had to let him go."_

"What?" Tom asked incredulously.

"I'm sorry, man. We just…we didn't have enough evidence to charge him yet," Doug answered.

"Wait…wait," Tom said. "You didn't have enough _evidence_? What the fuck is _this_?" He held his hands out, wrists up, showing the healing wounds from the restraints.

"I know, but…" Doug started.

"What about…about…Jesus, Doug…he was all over me…in me…there was evidence all over the place!"

"Listen to me, Tom…I know…they have all that. It's just…" Doug sighed, exasperated, and decided to get it over with. "All that proves is that you guys were…together. There wasn't any evidence to show that he attacked you."

"This isn't evidence? That I was…tied up…that I got the shit beat out of me??!"

"He said he didn't do that. He said…"

"Of _course_ he said that, Doug!" Tom exclaimed. "What…is this your first day on the job?! You think he's just gonna sit there and admit he did it?"

"I know…I know…" Doug answered. "But there's no other evidence. And we can't find these other guys you say were there."

Tom sat back, stunned. His eyes were starting to tear up and his lips trembled as he responded, "That I _say_ were there?" He choked back a sob and continued, looking at his friend pleadingly, "You don't believe me?"

"Tom, c'mon, I didn't mean…"

"You don't believe me," Tom repeated flatly.

"Of course I do. We all do. We just have to find the evidence so we can prove it. Hey…you don't want to go through all of this and then have a freakin' stupid group of jurors set him free, do you? We need to make this stick. We're gonna get them. We are."

Tom sat silently, his head down, not looking at his friend.

Doug decided he might as well go for broke. "He's saying you went to his place and had sex with him."

"What?!" Tom's head jerked up. His breath was coming faster now, and his face fell as he finally gave in to the emotions that were tearing at him. "God…" He put his face in his hands and tried to regain control of himself, shaking his head and mumbling, "Never never never…never gonna stop this is never gonna stop."

"Tom," Doug said. "Did…did you go to see him when he was in prison?"

"Oh Jesus." Tom was crying softly now into his hands. "They're gonna use that against me, aren't they? Jesus…"

"Why did you go see him?"

Tom looked up at his partner, his face wet with tears. "'Cause I'm a fucking idiot, that's why."

"What happened?" Doug asked.

"He has a kid." Tom sniffed and wiped his face with the back of his hand. "When I was undercover…for those two months…with him…there was this girl…Janie. She hung out with us a lot…made a few drug buys…but she was pretty straight. I…I tried to make her stay away, you know? I mean, fuck, the guy had just _killed_ a girl just a few years younger than her. But…she kept coming around." He sighed. "He got her pregnant. She had the baby three months after he was convicted."

"You kept in touch with her?"

"No! I mean, not really. But I had given her my cell number in case she ever got into trouble. I ran into her a few times on the street, but she was keeping clean. Then she called me…said she wanted him to see the baby…to take him some pictures, but he didn't want to see her." Tom looked at Doug. "He said he'd see me though." He shook his head. "And I went. Like a fucking idiot. Because she cried and begged me and…shit…he didn't want to see any pictures. Wouldn't even take them. He just wanted to get me in front of him again so he could swear and yell and threaten some more."

"He threatened you?"

Tom laughed a humorless laugh. "Wasn't the first time. You heard about court, right? Anyway, yeah…once he started with the trash talk, I just got up and left. That's it. That's all there was to it."

The two men sat in silence for a moment before Tom asked in a quiet, trembling voice, "Doug…did he…do you think he…did he have this all planned out?"

Thoughts of the sheet found in Eckert's apartment entered Doug's mind, but he replied, "I don't know, man. I don't know."

"God, Doug…what am I gonna do?" Tom was crying again now, his face in his hands.

Doug watched as his friend broke down, feeling horrible for him. In a matter of a few minutes since Doug had arrived at the house, Tom's world had been crushed again, quickly sinking from being hopeful and confident to being fearful and despondent. He got up and went to sit beside his partner on the couch. "Hey, c'mon, Tommy," he said as he put his arm around him. "It's gonna be okay."

"He's still out there, Doug. What if…" Tom raised his head. "What if he…?" He looked toward the kitchen.

"He won't. We'll put a watch detail on the house. I'll call it in before I leave, okay?" Doug leaned over to look into Tom's eyes. "Okay?"

"Yeah." Tom nodded.

"It's gonna be okay," Doug said again.

"Yeah…yeah. Um…I'm kind of tired. I think I'm gonna go lie down for a while."

"Oh…yeah…okay. Hey, uh…Fuller said he'd be by later."

"Okay," Tom answered, unenthusiastically. "Thanks for coming by."

Doug stood up to leave. "I'm taking off then. I'm gonna get some uniforms over here before I leave though. I'll call you later."

Margaret Hanson heard Doug leave and then the door to Tom's room open and close. She put down the dish towel she had been wringing with her hands for the last several minutes as she had listened to the conversation in the other room. It had taken all the strength within her not to go into the room and…do what? She did not know. She was angry, and there was no one to take it out on. Her heart broke for her son, and she longed to go to him and comfort him…protect him. But she knew he needed to start doing some of this on his own…that he needed to do that in order to heal and grow stronger. Now, quietly, she went down the hall and stood outside the door to Tom's room…the room he had grown up in and had now come home to. From behind it she could hear the sound of him crying. As quietly as she came, she left.

About an hour later, Margaret stood outside the door and listened again. This time, all was quiet. She carefully and slowly opened the door so as not to awaken him. Her son lay sleeping on his side in his bed, curled up slightly with one arm tucked under his head. She smiled to see him at peace, even for a short while. She walked over to the bed and picked up the blanket folded at the end of it. Gently, she covered him with it, smoothed his dark hair with a soft hand, kissed him on the forehead, and left the room.

Later in the afternoon, Margaret answered the doorbell to find Fuller standing on the steps. The captain decided to wait until Tom woke up, so he sat in the living room talking to Margaret. She told him that she had overheard the earlier conversation between Tom and Doug, and he assured her that there would be a constant watch on the house until they felt it was no longer necessary. After about a half an hour, Margaret apologized for the captain having to wait, but she was happy that Tom was getting some much needed rest. She would soon find out, however, that his sleep was not restful.

_Tom tossed and turned, the sheets tangling around him. Every once and awhile he moaned a little as he rolled onto his side, his sore ribs taking his weight. He finally settled for lying on his stomach, one arm draped over the edge of the bed. Just about to drift off again, he felt something brush against his hand. He shook it quickly, thinking something must have been crawling on him. A moment later he felt another touch, this one more defined, moving back and forth on his hand and then traveling up his arm. The realization hit too slowly for him to react quickly enough, and his arm was grasped tightly and jerked, pulling him from the bed and onto the floor. Gasping and lying on his back, he turned his head to the side and looked under the bed where Lee Eckert lay, his teeth gleaming in the darkness as he smiled at him. Tom cringed and desperately tried to pull his arm away, but all he succeeded in doing was dragging Eckert out from under the bed, his face and clothes covered in dust._

"_Hey, buddy! Miss me?" Eckert laughed wildly as he climbed on top of Tom, straddling his chest with his knees on either side of him, pinning his arms down._

_Tom panted in fear, finally managing to ask, "How…how did you get in here?"_

_Eckert grasped Tom's face with both hands and leaned over close. "Awwww..." he cooed. "I never left, Tommy. I've always been here. And I'll always be here." He gripped the younger man's face tightly. "You'll never get rid of me!" He let go and leaned back, laughing._

"_No…" Tom whispered, shaking his head, tears springing to his eyes._

"_Yes…" Eckert whispered back, nodding his head as he began to unhook his belt._

_Realizing what Eckert was doing, Tom began to whimper and struggle, but the man's weight and knees kept him firmly in place. "Please…" he uttered._

"_Please what?" Eckert asked as he unbuttoned his jeans and slid his zipper down._

"_Please don't…please."_

_Eckert's long, hard cock sprang out of his pants. He grabbed it with a tight fist and brought it close to Tom's face. "Don't worry…you're gonna like this." He leaned over and whispered into Tom's ear, "Your mom did."_

_Enraged, Tom spat out, "You son of a bitch!" and struggled as hard as he could to get free, but to no avail. "You leave her alone!"_

"_Too late," Eckert snickered. He stroked his growing cock as he spoke. "Don't worry…she loved it. I know because she was doing so much screaming…like you did!" he laughed._

_Tom was crying now, furious and frustrated that he was helpless to do anything. "Leave her alone," he begged again._

"_Come on now," Eckert said enticingly as he grinned, "it's not that bad. You'll see. Open up! C'mon…" He rubbed the head of his cock over Tom's lips which were tightly shut. "Don't make me hurt you," he warned as he slapped Tom's face hard with his free hand. Still, his captive did not comply, so Eckert grabbed his jaw, digging his fingers in and drawing blood, and forced it open. He then slid his thick cock in, moaning. "Ohhhh yeahhhh…now that's not so bad, is it?"_

_Eckert pushed himself up onto his knees to better position himself and grabbed Tom by the hair, holding his head firmly in place as he began to thrust himself in and out of the younger man's warm, moist mouth. "Oh sweet Jesus," he sighed, closing his eyes. "That feels soooo gooood. Your mama taught you good, Tommy."_

_Tom gagged when Eckert's cock invaded his mouth, choked by both his tears and the massive member as it thrust deeper and deeper, forcing his mouth open as wide as it could go. He panicked with fear and desperation, unable to breathe as the ex-con loomed over him, laughing. "This can't be happening," he thought. "This isn't happening…please…please." Darkness slowly overtook him as his chest screamed for air and he felt himself beginning to suffocate._

Suddenly Tom was aware of a softness surrounding his face. His mouth was empty again, although it was open, gasping for air and screaming. The darkness abated as he lifted his head from the pillow to find that he was still lying face down on his stomach, one arm draped over the edge. He quickly turned over and sat up in the bed, covered in sweat and wrapped in the sheets, as he frantically looked around the room.

In the living room, Margaret had just finished serving Fuller his second glass of iced tea when she heard the muffled scream coming from behind the door to Tom's room. She turned her head toward the sound, then politely excused herself and headed down the hall, leaving a shaken Fuller to stare after her.

Although the captain had visited Tom several times in the hospital and had heard about his nightmares, he had never been a witness to them. When he heard the scream from Tom's room, he jumped in his seat at the panicked sound. What was even more disturbing to him, however, was the calm reaction that Tom's mother had just had. When his shock wore off, he realized sadly that she must be used to it. He heard a door open and then faint weeping and soft, murmured words, and he wondered if he should stay or go.

Margaret opened the bedroom door to find her son as she had so often found him in the hospital, sitting up in the bed looking terrified, tears on his face. She went and sat on the bed next to him, no questions asked, and put her arms around him, pulling him close to her.

Tom did not resist her touch. He let himself be embraced and let her hold him and rock him gently as he cried. "He was here…" he mumbled.

"No, sweetie…no, he wasn't. Everything is okay." She spoke softly and gently, trying to soothe him.

"But…but he said he…" Tom looked at his mother. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, baby. It's okay," she said as she put her hand on his head, guiding it back to rest in the crook of her shoulder.

Resting in her arms and feeling her hand stroking his hair, Tom soon felt himself calming down. He knew that everything was all right, at least in this moment.

"Are you feeling better now?" she asked him. He nodded, and she said, "Captain Fuller is here to see you. He's been waiting for awhile…will you come out and talk to him?"

Tom nodded again, wiping his eyes. "Yeah," he said. "Just…just give me a minute…okay?"

"Sure, sweetie." She smiled at him and gave him a tight hug before leaving the room. In the living room, she told Fuller, "He'll be out in a minute."

"Sure," Fuller replied. "Is uh…is everything okay?"

She sat down on the couch and sighed. "Yes. I'm getting used to it. The worst part though, is that he's getting used to it too. He's afraid it's never going to get better."

"It will."

"I know," she replied. "I believe that. I do. I just wish…" Her voice broke, and she took a moment to compose herself before continuing. "I just wish things would get better for him soon."

They both looked up as Tom entered the room, his eyes still tired and red, but looking better than he had moments ago. "Hey, Captain."

"Hi, Tom," replied Fuller.

"I'll let you two talk," said Margaret. "I have some things to finish up in the kitchen."

Tom watched his mother leave, then took her spot on the couch.

"So," Fuller began, "I hear Doug filled you in on what's been happening."

"Yeah." Tom nodded, then lowered his head. "Doesn't sound too good."

"Don't worry about it, Tom. It's going to be fine."

Tom raised his head to look at the captain. "Do you…you believe me, don't you?"

"Of course I…"

"It's not true…I swear it! What he's saying about me…it's…" Tom stopped and collected himself. He was so tired of crying all the time, and especially in front of other people. He took a few deep breaths, like Dr. Hirsch had suggested, then continued, "Everything I told you was the truth. That's what happened."

"Tom, I believe you," Fuller assured him. "We all do. Look, I saw this guy…talked to him…sat face to face with him. He's a lying sack of shit. Anyone can see that. But we have to _prove_ it."

"Yeah, and in the meantime he's pissed off and running around loose out there. I can't…I just…I don't know what to do."

"Everything's going to be okay, Tom. We've got around the clock surveillance on the house, and we've got guys tailing Eckert…to keep him away from you and also to see where he goes and who he talks to." The captain broke into a large smile. "And, we had some good luck this afternoon."

"What happened?"

"The DMV database matched one of our suspects with a car similar to the one you described. The guy's name is Marty Walsh. We can't find any connection to Eckert, but he fits your description and so does the car, except…"

"Except?" Tom said.

Fuller sighed. "It had been freshly painted."

Tom groaned in response.

"So, that ruins any evidence on the outside. It's suspicious, but it's not proof that he was trying to hide anything. We're holding him for questioning though, and the car's been impounded. CSI is turning it inside out looking for something. In the meantime," Fuller reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. "I was hoping you might be able to help us out."

Tom looked apprehensively at the envelope and then at the captain. "What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"Take a look at some pictures...see if any of these guys look familiar."

"Uh…I…" Tom shrank back against the couch, looking again from the envelope to Fuller. "I don't know. I told you…it was too dark to see very well."

"I know…I know…but could you just take a look? Maybe you'll be able to recognize one of them anyway," said Fuller. He took three small photographs out of the envelope and placed them face up on the coffee table. "Please?"

Tom looked at him a moment before glancing down at the table. He sighed and moved closer, leaning over and looking at the pictures.

…_the eyes were void of compassion._

Tom reached out and placed his index finger on the third photo, dragging it out of the row and across the table toward him. He stared down at it, his finger still holding it against the table. He looked up at Fuller with wide, brown eyes. "Him. It's him."

* * *

**Once again I surprised myself by getting a chapter done sooner than I thought I would. :-) And it's a bit longer, I think. Thank you again to everyone who reads and comments. I really appreciate hearing from you, and it makes it all worthwhile! **


	17. Chapter 17

_Tom reached out and placed his index finger on the third photo, dragging it out of the row and across the table toward him. He stared down at it, his finger still holding it against the table. He looked up at Fuller with wide, brown eyes. "Him. It's him."_

The next day, Captain Fuller walked down the hallway of the police station and saw Doug coming to meet him. "Is he in there?"

"Yeah," said Doug as he joined the captain, heading down the hall. "Michaels is just waiting for you before he goes in."

The two men reached the observation room and entered. Detective Michaels stood, leaning against the table and staring through the glass. On the other side sat Marty Walsh, an officer standing behind him. Walsh looked nervous, his fingers tapping a steady beat on the table in front of him.

"Mark," Fuller greeted the detective. "How long's he been in there?"

"Couple of hours." Michaels laughed a little. "Honestly, I think we could have cracked him after just 10 minutes."

"Yeah? You think he's going to give up Eckert?"

Michaels looked at him. "I think he'd give up his _mother_ right now to get out of here." Then the detective grew serious. "By the way…we had to give up the tail on Eckert."

"What? Why?" asked Fuller.

"He's got a lawyer…claims we're harassing him."

Fuller paused, expecting Doug to jump into the conversation. When he didn't, Fuller said, "You're kidding me, right?"

"Nope. And unfortunately, they're right. We haven't charged him with anything. He hasn't made any threats against Hanson or his family. Hell, we couldn't even get a restraining order if we wanted to. I'm telling you, this guy knows how to keep his hands clean."

"Has anybody told Hanson?"

"Yeah," replied Michaels. "I went over there this morning. He seemed pretty calm about it, actually. I told him we're keeping the watch on the house and on them if they go out…and that I was pretty sure we'd have Eckert back in custody soon."

Fuller responded, "He might have seemed calm, but we need to get this moving, Mark. I don't know if Eckert would go after him now or not, but this is hell on Tom. It needs to end."

"It will," said Michaels. "We're making progress." He looked through the glass at Walsh.

"Let's get to it then," said Fuller, and he headed out the door with Michaels following as Doug sat down in a chair by the table. Fuller stopped and looked back into the room. "Doug? You coming?"

"Huh?!" Doug looked up, clearly startled by the question. "Me?? You want me to go in too??"

"Sure." Fuller smiled. "You'll behave yourself. Right?"

"Right!" Doug answered as he jumped up from his seat, knocking the chair over in the process. "Whoa…uh…sorry," he stammered as he picked the chair up.

"Try to contain your excitement a bit, okay?" said Fuller.

"Yeah…sure," said Doug as he followed the others.

The three men entered the interrogation room, and Fuller and Michaels sat at the table opposite the increasingly agitated Walsh. His eyes flitted back and forth between the men at the table and then to Doug who had taken a seat in the corner. Walsh continued to look back and forth at the men as they sat silently looking at him. After a few minutes, he could stand it no longer. "Look…it wasn't my idea! I didn't even know those guys! Not any of them…I swear!"

Michaels looked over at Fuller. This was going to be easy. "So," he began, "you just…what? All happened to be out for a stroll in the park at the same time?"

"No, man! It wasn't like that!"

Michaels leaned across the table. "All right then…tell me what it was like."

Walsh continued looking at them frantically, his forehead breaking out in a sweat. "That guy…the big one…Lee…his name was. He started talking me up at the Overboard Lounge a couple of nights before…kept buying me drinks, feeling me out…said he knew I'd been locked up 'cause my tat looked prison made. He wanted to know what I was in for…if I'd ever killed anybody…hurt anybody." Walsh lowered his head, then looked up, his eyes pleading for them to understand and believe him. "He was buying me drinks…he was a tough guy…I just…fuck, man, I started bragging…told him I'd done all kinds of crazy shit. I was just trying to impress him." He lowered his head again.

"I guess you did, huh?" said Michaels.

"I guess," Walsh mumbled.

"So what'd he do? Hire you?"

"Yeah…well…he said he'd pay me to help him out with something. Said it would be fun…just grab this guy and rough him up a little." Walsh shook his head, his eyes wide. "I swear, man…I didn't know he was gonna…shit, man…that was some sick stuff."

At that, Fuller could keep quiet no longer. "So why didn't you stop him?" he asked angrily.

Walsh looked at him and replied with his own question. "Stop him? Have you seen this guy? Have you seen him mad? Stop him? Hell...wasn't nothin' I could do, man."

"So what _did_ you do?" questioned Michaels. "What was your part in this?"

Walsh looked around uneasily. "Uh…don't I need a lawyer?"

"Are you asking for one?"

"Yeah…no…shit, I don't know. I just want out of here."

"Well," Michaels continued. "Keep talking and we just might make a deal with you. But we need to know what we're working with first."

Walsh sighed and crossed his arms, more to gain control of himself than as a sign of defiance. He shrugged. "Okay. I admit it. I helped kick the guy around…held him while Lee beat on him."

Michaels raised his eyebrows. "Is that it?"

"I just…held him down. That's all," responded Walsh, eyes lowered.

"So what did he give you for 'helping' him?"

"He gave us each five hundred bucks and some coke…wanted me to drive my car and pick him up." Walsh looked at Michaels. "After…he said to disappear…clean the car out and paint it. He said he'd kill us if we told anybody."

"Us?" asked Michaels. "Who was the other guy?"

"I don't know. I swear. He was at Lee's place when I picked him up."

"Describe him."

"He was about my size…a little fatter, I guess," said Walsh. "His hair was kinda long…real weird reddish color…didn't say much. I don't think he knew Lee either. They never talked. When I dropped them off, he didn't go in with him. He just took off down the street."

"And what was his part in this?" asked Michaels.

"Same as mine. He and Lee got out of the car and grabbed the guy…put him in the back with them on the floor. Then when we got out there, he helped me knock the guy around and hold him for Lee."

"Did Eckert say why he was doing this?"

"Shit, man…what did we care?" said Walsh. "Easy money and some dope, that's all it was about for us. But yeah…yeah…he just said the punk had screwed him over and he wanted to teach him a lesson."

Fuller leaned in and asked, "And you're telling us you had no idea what he was going to do?"

"No, man! Seriously…I ain't into shit like that. I've never done nothing that bad in my life! I wouldn't have gone if I'd known he was gonna…you know…that was sick, man. I never seen nothing like it. That kid was cryin' and screamin'…" He shook his head. "Shit."

Walsh's words hung in the air as everyone in the room silently contemplated them and the images they conjured up. After a moment, Michaels spoke. "Okay…what about the ropes and stuff? Where did they come from?"

"Lee brought 'em," Walsh answered. "He had a bag of stuff with him when I picked him up. Had a gun too."

"Did he use everything?" the detective asked.

"I guess, man…hell, I don't know what all he had or what he did with it."

"What happened to the bag?"

"He took it back home with him. I know he was wiping his hands off on somethin' and put it in there," said Walsh.

Michaels, Fuller, and Doug all traded glances at each other, thinking the same thing. Eckert had brought the sheet with him, planning the whole time to use it as part of his set up. Michaels sighed. "All right." He nodded to the officer. "Get him out of here."

"Hey!" Walsh exclaimed as the officer pulled him to his feet. "I thought we were gonna make a deal!"

"I don't make deals, Walsh," said Michaels. "The D.A. does. Make your call and get a lawyer."

After Walsh was taken from the room, Doug joined the others at the table. "What's gonna happen?" he asked.

Michaels did not look happy as he explained, "The D.A. is probably going to let him plead out to part of it and dismiss the rest so we can have him testify against Eckert. Pleading to those lesser charges though is probably going to mean he can make bail. He'll be out of here in less than 24 hours."

* * *

Tom lay on his bed reading a book. It had been two days since he had identified Marty Walsh's photo. Neither he nor his mother had left the house, although they had been assured by Detective Michaels that it would be safe to do so. He looked up as he heard a knock at the door. "Come in."

The door opened and his mother peered in, smiling. "Hey, are you getting hungry?"

"I guess…a little. Supper ready?"

"No," she answered. "I just thought maybe you'd take me _out_ for dinner tonight."

Surprised, Tom replied, "Uh…I don't know."

Margaret entered the room and went over to sit on the bed. "Why not?" She reached over and ran a hand through his hair. "You need to get out of here and have a good time. _I_ need to get out of here and have a good time," she laughed.

He couldn't help but smile back at her. It had been a while since he had heard her laugh, and he realized how much he missed the sound of it. He hated the fact that he was the source of her sorrow these days. The least he could do was try to make her happy for one night. "Okay," he said.

Her face beamed, and she pulled him into a tight hug. "Thank you, sweetie," she whispered in his ear. She sat back and then stood up. "I'm going to get ready. See you in…half an hour?"

"Sounds good," Tom replied. He watched as she left, closing the door behind her, his smile fading then. He sighed, resigned to the fact that he was going to have to go out for the first time since the attack. He had known, of course, that this day would come, and had been dreading it. He got up and went into his bathroom to freshen up. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, turning his head and tilting it, looking at the abrasions and bruises. Some were fading, but some seemed darker. He turned the cold water faucet on as high as it would go, cupping the water in both hands and splashing it over his face. He looked back at the mirror, watching the water slide down his face and drip from his bangs that were hanging low over his forehead. His hands gripped the sides of the sink tightly as he continued to stare at his reflection. Tears started to well up in his eyes, but before they could fall he grabbed a towel from the rack and buried his face in it. He held it there a moment before running it across his face to dry off.

Tossing the towel aside, Tom took the bottom of his t-shirt and started to pull it over his head, stopping briefly and uttering a small moan as his sore arms and torso protested the action. When the pain had passed, he finished pulled the shirt off and once again stared at his reflection. His fingers lightly traced over the many deep bruises that covered his sides and abdomen. His eyes looked down the length of his arms, settling on the healing rope marks marring his wrists. He went back into his room and opened the closet door, shuffling through the hanging clothes until he found what he was looking for. He carefully pulled the long sleeved, navy blue sweatshirt on and went to the living room where his mother was waiting for him.

Two hours later, they were both still sitting at the table, laughing in the dim light of a casual Italian restaurant not far from their home. Before leaving the house, Margaret had told the officers outside that they were going out, and an unmarked car was assigned to follow them. It was discreet, but neither Tom nor his mother could pretend or forget that it was there and why. That is, until they reached the restaurant. Once inside and at the table, they felt themselves disappearing into the anonymity of the crowd, and for the first time in a week and a half they felt "normal". They talked about anything and everything except recent events, and when Tom laughed his mother saw, even in the dim light, a genuine sparkle in his eyes that she had feared was gone for good. When they finally finished their dessert and coffee, he even suggested that they catch a movie before heading home. She readily agreed, and they spent another two hours enjoying the ridiculous antics of Will Ferrell.

On the drive home, Tom barely took notice of their escort or the watch detail on the house as he walked his mother up to the door. Exhausted from the outing, he went straight to bed and slept fitfully through the night.

* * *

The next afternoon, Detective Michaels' office was full. A meeting had been called by District Attorney Scott Hayden to discuss the progress of the case as well as the details on Marty Walsh's plea bargain. Captain Fuller and Doug sat at the conference table as well.

"Where's Hicks?" asked the D.A.

"On her way," replied Michaels. "Should be here any minute."

"Well, let's go ahead and get this started," said Hayden. "I'm sure you already know…Walsh made bail." Doug groaned and Fuller shot him a stern look. Hayden glanced at the two of them and continued, "We're pushing the hard stuff off onto Eckert. Walsh is pleading to criminal confinement and assault. He'll get at least 10 years."

"And be out in five," Doug interjected angrily.

Hayden looked at Fuller. "Captain, should we reschedule this meeting for a time when your officer here will be more respectful?"

"No, sir," answered Fuller as he turned to face Doug. "I'm sure he understands that you're doing what's best for the case. Don't you, Doug?"

Doug sighed. "Yes, sir."

"Good," said Hayden. "Look, I know this has been difficult on everyone. That's why we need to keep moving and get things wrapped up. The longer this goes on, the more difficult it's going to be to prosecute and the harder it's going to be on the victim."

"Tom," said Doug.

"Excuse me?"

"The 'victim' has a name. Tom Hanson."

"I assure you, Officer Penhall, that I am aware of that. And this is going to be an awfully long process if you insist on fighting me every step of the way. I've been in this position for nine years and in law enforcement for over twenty, and believe me, I've seen every horrific crime you can imagine and some you can't. My job is to make sure the people who commit those crimes are taken off the streets for as long as possible. And if I have to let a few low risk losers back on the streets in order to get the major players put away, then that's what I do. Do we understand each other?"

Doug sat silently. Deep in his heart he still wanted everyone involved in this to pay dearly, but in his head he knew that the man was right. "Yes, sir," he said.

"Glad to hear it," said Hayden. "Look, if anything else comes up later, we can always charge him with more. But right now, we have no evidence to prove Hanson's claims. Walsh is the only chance we have to support his side of it and get Eckert convicted. Without his testimony, we're back to nothing." Just then, his cell phone on the table vibrated. He picked it up and checked the number, then stood up and excused himself. "I need to take this." He answered the phone and wandered over to Michaels' desk to talk.

The other men looked up as the door opened and CSI Angie Hicks entered, looking harried. "Sorry I'm late," she said as she sat at the table and opened a file folder she had been carrying.

"It's okay, Angie…we just got started," said Michaels. "What have you got?"

She sighed. "A lot of miniscule things that don't mean much out of context. We've been over the car a hundred times." Then she brightened. "But…we did find a couple of hairs caught in one of the headrests in the back seat. Reddish…jives with Walsh's description of the other guy. One had the root on it, so we're running it for DNA. If this guy's in the system, we'll find him."

Hayden had just snapped his phone shut and joined the others at the table. "Well, you'd better find him fast. That was Chief Owens." He paused and then sighed. "Marty Walsh was just found dead in the alley behind the Overboard."

* * *

**It's been a while, hasn't it? I've missed you all! I had some vacation time and some other things going on, but I was really anxious to get this thing going again, so here it is! I hope you enjoy it and are still reading, despite the little break. I promise the updates will be more frequent now, just like before. Please drop a review and let me know what you think! Thanks so much!**


	18. Chapter 18

_Hayden had just snapped his phone shut and joined the others at the table. "Well, you'd better find him fast. That was Chief Owens." He paused and then sighed. "Marty Walsh was just found dead in the alley behind the Overboard."_

The room was quiet for a moment before a voice broke the silence. "Shit," said Doug.

"What the hell happened?" asked a stunned Detective Michaels.

"Shot once, point blank, in the head. More precisely, right through the tattoo on his temple," replied Hayden.

"Shit," said Doug again, still shocked by the news.

"Anyone see anything?" asked CSI Hicks.

"Of course not. They never do around that neighborhood," answered Hayden.

"Maybe we can recover and trace the bullet then," said Hicks.

"No need." Hayden sighed. The gun was left lying on his chest. You know what that means."

"Yeah. Untraceable," she said.

"Yep."

"All right," Hicks said as she got up from the table. "I'll get back to the lab and get a rush on that DNA test."

"Thanks, Angie," said Michaels.

"I'll keep you posted," she said as she left the room.

The men sat at the table looking at one another without speaking. They were all thinking the same thing, and finally Fuller said it out loud. "Eckert killed him."

Michaels nodded. "Or had him killed. Either way, knowing Eckert there won't be any evidence to trace."

"All right, gentlemen," Hayden said as he headed for the door. "I need to get back and cancel some paperwork. Do me a favor. Find this other guy so I don't have to cancel _all_ of the paperwork." He left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Want me to tell Tom?" Doug asked.

"Let's wait a bit…" said Michaels, "…give the lab a chance to run that DNA…see if they can up with anything."

"Yeah," Fuller agreed. "At least if we can come up with the other guy, the news won't be as bad."

* * *

"Michaels," the detective said as he answered his phone two days later.

"Mark, it's Adam. Hey, we heard that CSI got a hit on that hair DNA. What's up?"

Michaels leaned back in his desk chair and smiled. "You must have been reading my mind. I was just getting ready to call you."

"You want us to go with you to get him?" asked Fuller.

"Not necessary. But you can come down here and question him with us. Say…oh…in about an hour?"

"What?! What's going on?"

"You're not gonna believe this one. Before I could even make the call for an arrest warrant, the guy was down at the front desk turning himself in." Michaels chuckled in spite of the seriousness of the situation.

"Are you kidding me?" asked the captain.

"Nope. His name is Marvin Kern…punk from over in Chesterfield. He's got a light record like Walsh, but he's been known to get into a nasty bar fight now and then. Anyway, seems he got wind of Walsh's murder and got scared…figured he was safer in here than out there."

"And he's probably right."

"I would have to agree," replied Michaels. "So I'll see you in about an hour?"

"You got it."

* * *

Tom sat in the leather chair, tapping his fingers against his knee. He hated that he still felt nervous when talking to Dr. Hirsch. He had met with the psychologist several times and was growing more and more comfortable with him. But as nice and as helpful as the man was, Tom could not stop the way his hands shook and his heart pounded every time he had an appointment.

Dr. Hirsch had offered to come to Tom's mother's house for this first meeting since Tom had left the hospital, but Tom had politely declined the offer and told the doctor he would meet with him in his office at the hospital. There weren't many opportunities these days for Tom to leave the house, so he looked forward to getting out, even if it meant bringing his mother with him…and the undercover officer that followed them.

"So," asked Dr. Hirsch, "how are things at your mom's house? Are you feeling comfortable there? Or have you thought about going home at all?"

"It's okay," Tom replied. "I hate that she feels like she has to take care of me…but…I can't really go anywhere right now…not until they arrest him."

"Are you afraid he's going to come after you? Or your mom?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't he? He has nothing to lose." Tom sat back in the chair and stuck one finger in his mouth, chewing on a nail.

Dr. Hirsch studied the young man in front of him. He thought Tom was showing great progress so far, all things considered. But he knew that things would be changing soon in a very big way, and he wondered how his patient would fare. "They'll catch him soon, Tom."

"I know."

"And then what?" asked the psychologist.

"Huh?" Tom looked puzzled.

"And then what? How do you feel about testifying and facing him in court?"

Tom shook his head. "I don't feel anything about it. I don't think about it."

"That day is going to come, Tom. It might be best if we started thinking about how we're going to handle it," the doctor said gently.

We. He had said "we", not "you". Tom felt himself relaxing a bit, reassured once again that he was not going to be left to fend alone in this. "Yeah." He nodded. "You're right."

* * *

Marvin Kern was a stocky man, muscle bound on top with a beer gut on bottom. His off-shade of red hair hung below his ears but was spotty in places, his bare scalp shining under the hot lights of the interrogation room. "I knew Marty would snitch," he said to Fuller, Michaels, and Doug. "He should have known Lee wasn't dicking around when he said he'd kill us if we talked. I ain't afraid of much, but that guy…he scares the shit out of me."

"That so?" asked Michaels. "I thought you didn't know him."

"I don't _have_ to know him much to know I didn't want anything more to do with him. He told me he just wanted help knocking the guy around, but damn…it just got worse and worse. I'm not into that kind of shit, man…I mean, fuck, he almost killed the guy!" His face fell as a thought occurred to him. "Aw shit…he didn't die, did he? Did that guy die?"

Michaels and Fuller looked at each other without speaking before Michaels said, "_He_ almost killed the guy? From what I understand, you did a lot of the kicking yourself…and helped hold him while Eckert beat him. That's accessory at the minimum, in addition to the kidnapping."

Kern looked panicked. "I didn't mean to! I…we…we were just gonna take him out there and beat him up…that's what Lee said. Then we got there and…after the guy passed out we were waiting around…smoking…Lee had a bottle of whiskey with him…we were passing it around. After that…" Kern leaned his elbows on the table, running a hand over his face. He shook his head and continued, "After that everything was kind of crazy. I mean, we were buzzed…and Lee…I didn't know what he was going to do, I swear. But I just…I just got caught up in it all. And things went too far."

"Yeah," said Michaels, "they did. You know, after you left, you could have called the police…anonymously or not…had them send somebody out there to help."

"I was out of it. I didn't care, man…not then," replied Kern.

"Oh, but now you do?" asked Fuller.

Kern was quiet and lowered his eyes before answering quietly, "Yeah…I do."

"Why?" asked Doug, speaking up for the first time. "Because now you think Eckert is coming after you? He's gonna kill you like he did Walsh? Or maybe do to you what he did to 'that guy' out in the park?!"

Kern looked at Doug and shook his head. "No."

"Why then?"

"Because I can't sleep at night."

At that both Michaels and Fuller laughed out loud. "Awww…now you have a conscience, do you, Marv?" asked Michaels.

Kern shook his head again. "It ain't my conscience. It's that scream." He looked at them, his eyes wide. "I never heard nothin' like that. When Lee…when he…the guy was gagged, but…it was awful…it made me sick. I…I keep hearing it now. I just want it to stop." He lowered his head, avoiding eye contact with the others.

Michaels sighed as he looked at the other men, their faces as somber as his. He looked back at the suspect. "Marvin?"

Kern looked up with tear-filled eyes at the detective.

"Did you know 'the guy' you attacked was a cop?"

The tears overflowed then and fell down his cheeks as Kern's lips began to tremble. He shook his head. "No…no, I didn't…I…I didn't mean to do it…please…I'm sorry…I'm sorry."

"We're done," said Michaels.

Kern hung his head as he got up with the officer to leave. Before reaching the door, however, he turned and asked, "Did he die?" Getting no response, he continued shouting as he was led from the room, "Did that guy die?! Did he die?!!"

* * *

"I don't understand it."

"What don't you understand, Tom?" asked Dr. Hirsch.

"It's like…when I turn on the TV…I don't know why everything looks…normal. And when I go out…same thing. Everyone just looks the same as before, but…I'm not the same. They keep on doing what they do and I feel like I'm…stuck." Tom looked at the doctor and shrugged.

"Stuck how?"

"Stuck…in one place. It feels like…after what happened…everybody goes on like before. Except me."

Dr. Hirsch leaned forward. "Look, Tom…I know it seems like that right now. But things are going to get better. I promise you that. I think…especially once the trial is behind us…we can really get down to business and help you move forward from this."

Tom nodded, but looked unconvinced.

"You don't have to feel alone in this," the psychologist continued. "Sexual assault is one of the most prevalent crimes in the nation. Almost everyone knows someone who has been affected in some way by it."

"Yeah, but…" Tom stopped and looked down at his hands, twisting nervously in his lap.

"But what?"

Tom swallowed hard before looking back up. "But…that's women." He looked back down at his hands.

"Well," said Dr. Hirsch, "that may be true…about the knowing, that is. But that's because assaults on males are tremendously underreported. The fact is though that less than 10 percent of sexual assaults on men are reported to the authorities. There are a _lot_ of men out there that this has happened to, Tom."

"I didn't even have a chance…or a choice…to report it or not. Everybody already knew."

"Unfortunately that's one of the effects of rape…to make the victim feel like he has no control. It's a power thing, really…not a sex thing."

Tom nodded but did not say anything, casting his eyes downward again.

Dr. Hirsch continued, "What the attacker wants is to make his victim feel powerless…to dominate him and the situation."

Tom nodded again, still not looking up, and sniffed a little, swiping the back of his hand across his cheek.

"With men especially, the goal is to make them feel humiliated…to tear them down as low as they can go and make them feel like _they've_ done something wrong and even that it's _their_ fault that this is happening to them."

With those last words, Tom's shoulders began to shake and he put his hands over his face as he started to cry in earnest.

"Is that how you feel, Tom?" asked Hirsch softly.

Face still buried in his hands, Tom barely managed to choke out a "yeah" between sobs.

Dr. Hirsch let the young man cry for a few moments before he said, "None of that is true, Tom. I know you feel that way, and we'll work on it…but none of it is true. Don't give him the power to make you believe that it's true."

Tom's head hung and he sniffed back more tears. "But he…I…" He shook his head. "I should have gone into the house…right away. I…I should have…tried harder to get away…yelled…"

"It wasn't your fault, Tom. I could sit here and justify it a hundred ways, but bottom line is…it wasn't your fault."

Still refusing to look up at the doctor, Tom tried furiously to wipe more tears off of his face, but still they continued to fall. "I was just doing my job. Why did he do that to me? He was the bad guy…he's supposed to be in jail. Why'd they let him out? Why did he do that to me?"

"You already answered that. He's a bad guy. And you're right. He should be in jail. This shouldn't have happened to you," said Dr. Hirsch.

Tom then spoke something so quietly that the doctor had to ask him to repeat it. Tom looked up, his face still wet with tears and his eyes wide. "I wanted to die," he whispered again.

"Tom…" Hirsch began.

"I did," Tom interrupted. "I thought it would never stop. They just kept…they just…kept hurting me…I couldn't breathe…and everything hurt so bad and they…wouldn't stop."

Dr. Hirsch sat quietly and let Tom continue.

"And he…he was…God…" Tom had to pause a moment as he was overcome with emotion again. His hands were shaking despite being clenched together so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. "He was touching me…all over…had his mouth on me…saying…things…in my ear."

The doctor noticed as a visible shudder ran through his patient.

"Then…he…he was fucking me…they were holding me down and…I was screaming…crying…trying to beg him to stop, but…" Tom shook his head. He covered his face as he began to sob again at the memories.

"You didn't die, Tom. There's a reason for that. You're a survivor," said Hirsch.

"But I wanted to," Tom mumbled as he fought to regain control over his emotions.

"But you didn't."

"Then…they left me there…and I kept waking up. Jesus…every time I woke up I just…I just thought why the fuck can't I just die?" He looked up at the doctor. "What's the point in living after that?"

"Do you still feel that way?" asked Hirsch.

Tom took at deep breath, trying to compose himself. "I don't know." He sniffed. "Sometimes. I guess."

"When?"

"When I think about going back to work. When I think about testifying. When I think about trying to have sex again. When I have the dreams. When I see my mom looking at me like…like her heart is breaking," Tom replied.

"We can work on all of that. Together. Okay? But let me tell you this…I know an awful lot of people who are happy you're still around. And they worked really hard to find you…to help you…and they're still doing that, Tom. You have some great friends and family who care a lot about you and who want to help you through this."

"I know," said Tom. "I know. I'll…we'll work on it. It'll be okay. It will."

* * *

In the waiting area, Tom's mother rose from her chair when he came out of the psychologist's office. She was used to seeing him drained from his sessions with the doctor, but today he looked especially worn out. "Hey, sweetie…how did it go?"

Tom forced a smile. "It went good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

She reached a hand out and touched his cheek, smiling. "Okay. Let's go then."

"I'll be down in a minute, okay?" he said.

Margaret looked confused. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'll be right there."

"Okay," she replied hesitantly with a concerned look. "I'll go ahead and pull the car around front."

Tom waited and watched his mother get into the elevator before he stepped in front of it and pushed the "up" button. He got in and then nervously put his hands into the front pockets of his jeans as he waited for the elevator to stop and the bell to ding, indicating that he had reached the fifth floor.

He stepped out into the bright lights of the ward. The smell of medicine and disinfectant triggered a gag reflex which he quickly fought down. He shook his head slightly to knock away the memories that the smell brought forth and walked down the hall and around the corner. He stepped up to the counter unnoticed and cleared his throat, uttering a shy, "Hi."

Bright, kind, blue eyes and a beaming smile greeted him. "Hey, hon'!" Helen got up from her chair and came around the counter, pulling him into a warm hug. "How are you doing, sweetie?" she asked.

"Doing better," he said as she let go of him. "I just wanted to…I didn't get to see you before I left, and I just…" He stopped speaking as he started to choke up.

"Awww…" Helen said, placing a hand on his arm. "Don't you worry about it, hon'."

"But…I wanted to thank you," he said. "You were so good to me."

She smiled warmly at him and rubbed his arm affectionately. "You were a good patient…never argued with me…lights out on time…ate all your Jello."

Tom laughed a little.

Helen noticed that his eyes were red and asked, "Have you been to see Dr. Hirsch today?"

He nodded, "Yeah…just on my way out."

Her face grew serious for a moment, and she took his hands in hers and looked into his eyes. "Now you listen to me, hon'," she said, her voice low so that no one else could hear. "I know you've been through a lot…stuff no one should have to go through. But you're gonna be okay. You hear me?"

"Yeah," he said as he nodded.

"I mean it. I know these things. You've got a good heart and a strong soul, and you've got a purpose in this world. Don't let anyone take that away from you. Okay?"

"Okay."

"You take care of yourself, hon'," Helen said as she pulled him into another hug, one that he gratefully returned.

"Thank you, Helen," he whispered into her ear. "Thank you."

* * *

**Hey everyone! Hope you're still reading and enjoying! Don't be shy about telling me what you think. :-)**

**And I want to send a shout out to the anonymous reviewers...the ones who don't have a FanFiction profile so that I can respond personally to their reviews. I really do appreciate every one of you and thank you for all of the kind words. :-) I try to respond to every review, so I wanted to make sure that you all were included and know that I do appreciate it!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Okay, before you start reading...my apologies! It's short. Very short. But it was necessary to get this done before moving on to what will be the next major part of the story, so I hope you will indulge me and forgive me. :-)**

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* * *

  
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"_You take care of yourself, hon'," Helen said as she pulled Tom into another hug, one that he gratefully returned._

"_Thank you, Helen," he whispered into her ear. "Thank you."_

Scott Hayden had seen a lot of things during his nine years as District Attorney. He had been witness to the most horrific of crimes committed against the most innocent of victims. And before that he had worked the homicide division, seeing a multitude of unimaginable violence against human beings. But even he had trouble listening to Marvin Kern give his deposition describing the vicious attack on Tom Hanson.

Hayden had worked out a deal with Marty Walsh, but the suspect had been killed before the D.A. could interview him. He was not going to make that mistake with Kern. For one thing, Kern wouldn't have left the jail right now if he was taken out in a golden limousine. He was afraid for his life outside the prison walls, and rightfully so. If the rumors on the street were true, Lee Eckert had killed Walsh to keep him quiet, and Kern was the only one left that he had to worry about.

Captain Fuller and Detective Michaels met Hayden in his office just hours after he had talked to Kern. He still looked pale and visibly shaken as the men sat down. He took a deep breath and began. "All right, gentlemen…here's what's going on." He cleared his throat. "I took Kern's deposition today. He was…uh…very forthcoming…gave a lot of details that corroborate the evidence and Hanson's story. I think he'll make a strong witness, especially in addition to Hanson's testimony."

"Yeah, if he doesn't shit his pants on the stand," said Michaels. "Eckert's gonna do his best to intimidate him up there."

"If he even makes it up there," added Fuller. "Scott, are you sure he's secure?"

"Absolutely. Totally isolated. No contact with any of the other inmates…no visitors…hell, even _I_ have to pass inspection to get in to see him."

"Good," Fuller answered. "Sounds like we're finally getting somewhere."

"Are we good to go on a warrant for Eckert?" asked Michaels.

"Yes," replied Hayden. "The judge should have it ready by this afternoon. You know where Eckert is?"

"Hell yeah," said Michaels, shaking his head in disbelief. "He's still hanging around his apartment, going out to the Toro…like he doesn't have a care in the world."

"Once we get him in here and charged, he'll change his tune," said Hayden. "He's not getting out this time…I'll see to that. And I'm putting this trial on the fast track."

"Thank you, Scott," said Fuller as he and Michaels got up to leave. "We appreciate it."

"Adam," said Michaels, "you and Penhall up for snagging the bastard with us?"

"Just say the word," Fuller replied.

* * *

Several hours later, Fuller and Penhall drove behind Detective Michaels' car and one patrol car on their way to Lee Eckert's apartment. They all parked a few blocks from the building, and everyone followed as the officers led the way, guns drawn. They entered the building and made their way up the stairs and down the hall before the officers hesitated. One turned around to look at the men behind him. "Detective," he whispered as he gestured with his head toward Eckert's apartment.

Michaels edged forward quietly, leaning out to look at what had stopped the officers. The door to Eckert's apartment was standing wide open. He moved steadily toward the open door. Weapon drawn, he peered around the corner and into the room.

Lee Eckert was standing, facing the door with his hands in the air. "All right, copper! Ya got me!" he exclaimed and then burst into laughter.

"Get on the floor, Eckert!" commanded the detective as he aimed the gun at Eckert.

"Yes, sir," said Eckert. "No problem." He lay face down on the floor with his arms out to the side.

Michaels nodded to the officers and they entered the apartment, quickly cuffing the man and pulling him to his feet.

Fuller and Doug followed Michaels as he went in. "Lee Eckert," said Michaels, "you're under arrest…_again_…for aggravated assault, kidnapping, and aggravated sexual assault. And this time you're going to be charged. It's over, Eckert. You're going away for this."

Eckert huffed. "Doubt it. But hey…I'll play along. Free room and board for a few weeks?" He laughed. "I'll take it!" He looked at Doug and added, "Does he miss me? Or you been keeping him company?"

Doug quickly bit back the response that nearly came out of his mouth and silently glared at the man.

Eckert laughed again. "Nah…he wouldn't cheat on me with a guy like you. He doesn't want me in jail either." His remarks were met with silent, stony stares. "What? You don't believe me?" he asked, feigning innocence. "Hell…he doesn't want to testify, does he?" The other men continued to maintain their silence. Eckert grinned. "I knew it. Told you…he's got it bad for me." He licked his lips. "You tell him I can't wait to see him again."

"Get him out of here," said Michaels to the officers. After the man was led from the room, the detective looked at Fuller and Penhall, shaking his head. "I just don't get that guy. He was waiting for us…he acts almost like he _wants_ to go to jail."

Fuller was still staring out the door after Eckert. "He wants Hanson. _That's_ what he wants. He wants to be in the same room with him and put him through hell again, reliving everything."

"Yeah," agreed Michaels, "there's that. But still…he seems so sure he's going to walk on this."

"He'd better hope he doesn't," said Doug. "'Cause if he does and I see him out somewhere…"

"Don't be making threats, Doug," said Fuller as he followed Michaels out of the apartment.

Doug stared after them. "Not a threat," he said quietly. "It's a promise."

* * *

Later that evening, Doug arrived at Tom's house, beer and movie in hand. He had called his partner earlier with strict instructions to have the pizza waiting when he got there, and he was not disappointed. They sat on the couch and ate, making small talk, before Doug finally said what he had been waiting all day to say. "So uh…about the case…"

Tom finished a gulp of beer and put down the bottle. "Aw shit. I knew it. I knew you weren't just coming over to hang out."

"No! No…I mean…yes, I was…I did…that's why I'm here. But I've got some news…kind of good news, bad news, but good news again," Doug said with a bright look on his face.

Although apprehensive, Tom couldn't help but laugh a little and shake his head at his friend's enthusiasm. He sighed. "All right. What is it?"

"Okay…well…um…don't worry about it, okay? 'Cause like I said…I got good news too, okay?"

"Tell me, Doug," said Tom.

"Okay…that Walsh guy…the one with the tattoo…the one the D.A. made a deal with…"

"Yeah?"

Doug decided to just put it out there. "He's dead."

Tom felt his stomach drop. "What?"

"He was out on bail…somebody shot him."

"Somebody. You mean Eckert." It was not a question.

"Probably," replied Doug. "But there was no evidence…nothing to lead to the killer."

"Of course there wasn't," Tom said. "Damn it, Doug…" He stopped speaking, unable to think of anything to say that would express his disbelief…or his fear.

"But hey! Wait…good news too, remember?" Doug was smiling now.

"You're killing me, man. What else?" asked Tom.

"Okay, okay…" Doug was excited now, anxious to get it all out at once…to finally give his friend some of the peace of mind he deserved. "They traced some DNA from the car to the other guy. They got him. He confessed everything…it matched your story…the D.A. made a deal with him and he's gonna testify against Eckert."

"Yeah…that's what he says…until Eckert gets to him."

"Not gonna happen," said Doug, smiling. "This guy's staying in jail…isolated…until the trial."

"Soooo…" said Tom as this news all started to come together in his mind. "With this guy's testimony…they can pick up Eckert now, right?"

"Already done."

Tom let out the breath he had been holding, and with it all of the fear and anxiety that had been building up since the attack. He looked at Doug and nodded his head, then lowered it as relief washed over him and his emotions overwhelmed him. He wiped his eyes and sniffed. "It's really happening…right?" he asked without looking up. "It's really gonna be over soon."

"Yeah, buddy," Doug said, putting his hand on Tom's shoulder. "Yeah, it is."

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**Well, there you go! :-) I think you can probably guess where we're headed next. Thank you to everyone who is reading and/or reviewing!**


	20. Chapter 20

**So sorry for the delay! I've had another project to write and then been on vacation. Just FYI, I've taken several liberties here with the court system and procedure. This would be a thousand chapter story if I followed everything by the book, so just pretend this is how it is supposed to go. ;-)**

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_Tom let out the breath he had been holding, and with it all of the fear and anxiety that had been building up since the attack. He looked at Doug and nodded his head, then lowered it as relief washed over him and his emotions overwhelmed him. He wiped his eyes and sniffed. "It's really happening…right?" he asked without looking up. "It's really gonna be over soon."_

"_Yeah, buddy," Doug said, putting his hand on Tom's shoulder. "Yeah, it is."_

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the case the court is about to present to you is about revenge…vicious, brutal, almost deadly revenge against a young police officer. And why? Because he was doing his job. He solved the murder of an innocent 17 year old girl and sent the man responsible to prison. And that man…Lee Aldon Eckert…" District Attorney Scott Hayden turned and pointed at Eckert before facing the jury again. "…that man was released from prison and went on a violent rampage, looking for revenge against the officer responsible for his conviction, Tom Hanson."

It had been three weeks since Eckert was arrested. Tom was looking and feeling much better but sat nervously now in the courtroom between his mother and Doug. He had been working long hours with the D.A. as well as Dr. Hirsch to prepare for this moment, and now it was here. When Eckert was led into the room, Tom had avoided looking directly at him and yet still fought the urge to vomit. His mother, seeing for the first time the man responsible for her son's pain, had reached over and taken his hand, holding it tightly. Tom tried to remain calm as he listened to Hayden continue speaking to the jury.

"The attack on this young officer was inhuman. During this trial you are going to hear…and see…how Tom Hanson was abducted, tied up, viciously beaten, savagely and violently sexually assaulted, and then left for dead behind a dumpster among the garbage." Hayden paused and looked up and down the row of jurors. "Ladies and gentlemen, you are going to be witness to that attack. You will hear testimony and see photos that are going to make you feel uncomfortable, even repulsed. Imagine how the victim feels. What if this was your son or daughter, brother or sister, or even yourself? Listen to the facts, make your judgment, and help me get this sadistic criminal back in prison where he belongs so that this doesn't happen to anyone else. And so that there is some justice for an innocent police officer just doing his job. Thank you."

As Hayden returned to the prosecution's table, he glanced over at the defense side. Lee Eckert sat with a plaintive look on his face. He was clean shaven, his hair neatly combed, and dressed in a clean white button-down shirt and black dress pants. His lawyer, Rosa Sheffield, sat next to him. Petite and pretty, she looked professional in her dark skirt suit as she stood and made her way to the jury. Hayden knew that her looks were deceiving. The woman was a barracuda in the courtroom, and he was not surprised that she had taken Eckert's case. She had a reputation for defending the worst of the worst, sometimes pro bono, in order to get her face on television and her name in the news. She had often defended rapists and ripped victims apart on the stand, but never a male victim. Hayden was both curious and apprehensive about how she was going to handle Hanson when he testified. He listened as she began to speak.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen…after that little introduction to this trial I'm sure you're all ready to get to it. You've been promised a lot of gratuitous, violent stories and pictures. But I'm afraid you've been misled." Sheffield gazed at the 12 men and women who were watching her. "It's true…this trial is about revenge, but not against a so called 'innocent young police officer'. It's about that officer's revenge on his ex-lover, Mr. Eckert."

_Shit_. Hayden sighed and shook his head. He had known the defense was going to go this route, but hearing it out loud in the courtroom now gave him a bad feeling. This was going to be bad for everyone. He closed his eyes briefly, hoping that his preparation of Hanson for this was going to be enough to get him through it.

Sheffield continued her opening arguments. "Mr. Eckert was convicted of a previous crime and served his time. This case has nothing at all to do with that, and as you were instructed you are not to consider it when deciding on your verdict. But while Officer Hanson was undercover investigating that crime, he and Mr. Eckert became involved sexually. When Mr. Eckert was released from prison, Officer Hanson sought him out…tried to start up a relationship with him again. They had sex, then Mr. Eckert told him it was over. After Officer Hanson left Mr. Eckert's apartment, he was attacked. Later, when it became known that he had been sexually involved with another man that same night, Officer Hanson decided to blame everything on my client. He did it to get revenge on him for not wanting a relationship, and he did it to cover up his promiscuity, his inappropriate sexual involvement with a suspect, and his homosexual activity."

Tom sat stoically, listening to the litany of lies. The D.A. had warned him that they would do this. Although the defense attorney was not allowed to knowingly present false information at the trial, if she did not know for sure or have evidence to the contrary then she was within the law by presenting her client's side of the story as he had given it to her. Tom's eyes flicked over to the defense table and settled on the back of Lee Eckert. He knew it wouldn't be long before he would be looking him in the face, and he shuddered a bit at the thought. His mother's grip on his hand tightened.

"And that," Sheffield concluded, "is the case that you will be hearing. You may be tempted to believe the prosecution's side of this simply because it is the testimony of a police officer. But remember…Mr. Eckert is presumed innocent until they present evidence to show that he committed a crime. You must be satisfied that there is no reasonable doubt before finding him guilty. And I am confident that after listening to both sides of this case with an open mind, you will come to the conclusion that Mr. Eckert is innocent."

Once the opening arguments were over, the prosecution began presenting its case. Hayden knew that without hard evidence that Eckert had assaulted Hanson against his will, the strongest part of this case was going to be Tom's testimony along with that of Marvin Kern. He had decided not to call them as witnesses until he was ready to conclude his side of the case. To open, he called Penhall to the stand to briefly tell how he and Tom had spent the evening in question and how he had left Tom in front of his apartment building. Hayden did not question Doug about finding Hanson. He decided that having the CSI, Angie Hicks, testify to that would be more beneficial to their case. But before Doug was allowed to step down, the defense asked to cross examine him.

Sheffield approached the stand and asked, "Officer Penhall, how long have you and Officer Hanson been…partners?"

Doug ignored the implication in her words and answered, "Three years."

"And in that time, have you known him to engage in homosexual activity?"

"Objection…relevance," stated Hayden.

"Your Honor," Sheffield addressed Judge William Andrews. "That's the whole crux of our case…that the victim is lying to cover up his sexual preferences and promiscuity."

"Overruled," said Andrews. "The witness will answer the question."

"No," Doug said flatly. "I haven't."

"What about an Officer Steven Jacobs? Do you recall him working in your department?" asked the defense attorney.

"Huh?"

"Do you remember him?"

"Yeah…I guess," replied Doug. "But what does…"

"He transferred out of your department after just a few months, didn't he? His file says that he had conflicts with his partner and superiors and exhibited violent and erratic behavior. I believe he was reassigned to desk duty in the fifth precinct. Ringing any bells, Officer Penhall?"

"I remember him, I just don't know what…"

"Isn't it true that he was ostracized because he was frequenting gay bars after work and refused to stop going there in his uniform? That the other officers in the department were embarrassed by him and harassed him until he finally requested a transfer?"

"Objection, Your Honor," said Hayden. "What does this have to do with the current case?"

"Your Honor, I'm laying the groundwork for reasons why the victim would lie to cover up the facts here," Sheffield addressed the judge.

"Overruled," said Andrews again. "But let's get moving on this, Counselor."

"Officer Penhall?" Sheffield stood in front of him with her arms folded.

Doug swallowed hard and looked around the courtroom, his face turning red. "Um…yeah…yeah, it's true."

"So," said Sheffield, "in light of how a gay officer was treated in the past in your department, would it not be reasonable to assume that other gay officers might try to hide their sexual preferences?"

"Objection!" This time the D.A. yelled it. "Calls for speculation."

"Sustained."

Rosa Sheffield looked at Doug with a smile on her face. "Thank you, Officer Penhall. No further questions."

Doug sat for a moment, looking confused, before getting up and heading back to his seat in the gallery. He sat down next to Tom without looking at him. True, he had no control over what the defense attorney had asked him, but still he felt like he had somehow betrayed his friend on the stand.

Angie Hicks was the next witness called. In preparation for her testimony, Hayden propped a stack of large, mounted photos face down on an easel where everyone in the courtroom could see them.

The CSI recounted how she and her partner had been called to the scene after Tom had been found.

"What did you see when you got there?" asked Hayden.

"The victim was semi-conscious, lying on his side. His hands were tied behind him, and he was gagged and covered in blood," she responded.

Hayden turned the first photo over on the easel, revealing a photo of Tom in the position Hicks had described. Tom lowered his head to avoid seeing the photo. The D.A. had shown them all to him prior to the trial so that he would be better prepared when they were presented, but he still did not want to see it. He heard his mother stifle a gasp as it was shown. She had not yet seen the pictures, but had been warned that they were graphic.

"Ms. Hicks, is this your crime scene photo of Officer Hanson as you found him that day?" asked Hayden.

"Yes, it is."

"Have you seen this set of photos before that I have here, and can you confirm that they are all your photos of the crime scene?"

"Yes, they are," she replied.

"Thank you. So what else did you observe when you arrived?" he asked.

Angie took a deep breath and continued, "The ropes around his wrists and mouth were tight…cutting into his skin. We cut those off, and once the paramedics took over and cut his shirt off, we took that into evidence as well."

As she spoke, Hayden showed more pictures that she had taken at the scene…close ups of the ropes binding Tom's wrists and around the gag in his mouth, his bloodied shirt and bruised torso, and the marks on his face and neck. Several members of the jury visibly winced as the photos were shown, and Mrs. Hanson bit her lip, resolved to keep her composure.

"What other evidence did you find? And what were the results?"

"We weren't able to get much from what we collected at the scene. The only evidence we found was what was found on Officer Hanson's body. But other than the blood, which was his, nothing was found to connect anyone to the crime. However, after we received the rest of his clothes from the emergency room we recovered some semen. We ran it through the Combined DNA Index System and got a match to Lee Eckert."

Tom still had his head lowered, and now he shook it slowly. This was proving to be harder than he thought it would be, despite Hayden's preparation. His mother put her arm around his shoulder and gave him a small hug.

"Anything else?" asked the D.A.

"Yes, with a partial description from the victim of an additional suspect and car, we were able to locate a vehicle and suspect, Marty Walsh. The car had been freshly painted, so we were unable to recover any evidence on the outside, but we found a hair inside matching the description Hanson gave of a third suspect. CODIS traced that hair back to a Marvin Kern."

"Thank you, CSI Hicks. No further questions, Your Honor."

"Ms. Sheffield? Your witness," the judge addressed the defense attorney.

Sheffield stood and asked from behind the table, "Ms. Hicks, you stated that you found semen on the victim's clothes and traced it back to my client?"

"Yes, we did," Angie answered.

"Did all of the semen belong to Mr. Eckert?" asked Sheffield.

"No. Some of it was Officer Hanson's."

"Where was this semen located?"

Angie sighed softly. "It was found on Officer Hanson's underwear and on his body…the backs of his thighs and his buttocks…mixed with his blood."

"I see," said Sheffield. "And was there any other evidence that you collected? Perhaps at Mr. Eckert's apartment?"

"Yes." Angie knew the attorney was going to ask the questions anyway, so she went ahead and answered, "we found a sheet in Mr. Eckert's laundry hamper. It also had a small amount of semen from both men as well as some of Hanson's blood."

"Which corroborates what my client says happened, doesn't it? No further questions."

Tom looked up and watched as Rosa Sheffield sat back down behind the defense table and Hicks left the stand. Day one of the trial was almost over, and he had no idea how many more were to come. But he did know one thing. It was going to get worse before it got better.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Please review if you have something to say. I like knowing what you think. :-) Again, not as detailed as it really would be in a court trial, but there will be more detail in some testimonies later. I wonder tho...is it boring?**


	21. Chapter 21

**Wow...I really surprised myself by having another chapter ready so soon! I hope that makes you guys happy. :-)**

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_Tom looked up and watched as Rosa Sheffield sat back down behind the defense table and Hicks left the stand. Day one of the trial was almost over, and he had no idea how many more were to come. But he did know one thing. It was going to get worse before it got better._

Dr. Phillip Marcus was the next witness called to the stand. D.A. Scott Hayden began his questioning. "Dr. Marcus, you were working the emergency room the day Officer Hanson was brought in, were you not?"

"Yes, I was," answered the doctor.

"Would you please tell the court what happened when he arrived?"

"As he came in, the paramedics briefed us on his condition…said he had been attacked, was semi-conscious, unresponsive, and that his blood pressure was dropping. We got him into a trauma room and started assessing him. He was becoming more aware of what was going on and started to panic. His heart rate was increasing, and he was thrashing around…distraught…frightened… so we were forced to sedate him in order to examine him."

"What was his condition?" asked Hayden.

Dr. Marcus took a deep breath before responding. "There was a lot of blood on and around his face, and his chest and abdomen were severely bruised. We suspected internal bleeding because of that and because of his low blood pressure, so I ordered a portable x-ray and an ultrasound. When his clothes were cut off, we noticed that there was blood and what appeared to be dried semen on his legs and boxer shorts. We cut the shorts off and bagged them for CSI and also swabbed the blood and semen on his body for evidence, and I performed a Sexual Assault Kit on him."

"And what did that entail?"

In the gallery, Tom closed his eyes, wishing he was anywhere else but in the courtroom as the doctor continued speaking.

"I took a blood sample to test for STDs. I combed his pubic hair and swabbed his genitals. Although there was no visible evidence of semen on his face, we swabbed his mouth just in case. I collected fingernail scrapings, and then we turned him over. I swabbed samples of the semen and blood on his backside and also the anal area where I noticed some lacerations."

"Lacerations?"

"Tearing," said Marcus.

"What did all of this evidence suggest to you?" asked Hayden.

"It appeared to me that he had been sexually violated against his will."

"Dr. Marcus," said Hayden, "I've got some photographs of Officer Hanson's injuries here to show. Can you confirm that these are photos taken by your staff in the E.R.?"

"Yes, they are."

"Thank you. I'm going to show them one by one. Would you please tell us what we are seeing here?" The D.A. put the first photo up on the stand. It was a close up of Tom's face, his eyes closed.

In their seats, Tom and his mother were both fidgeting. He was extremely uncomfortable listening to the doctor tell and show every detail of what had happened to his body…even more so having his mother experience it. Mrs. Hanson sat as she had in the hospital that day when Dr. Marcus reported Tom's condition to her…stoic and determined to stay strong for her son. But her heart was aching with each word.

Dr. Marcus shifted his gaze to the photo on display. "Well, we had cleaned most of the blood off when this was taken. You can see there is a large gash on his forehead that required ten stitches. Both eyes are blackened, but the left one had the most damage. It was extremely swollen and would barely open for days. His nose is broken, and you can see the multiple bruises and lacerations all over his face. Both of his lips are split open. In this picture we had already put a couple of sutures in to close them, but later we fully stitched them."

"What about these gashes on either side of his face?"

"Those are abrasions from rope that had been tied around a gag in his mouth. It had cut the corners of his mouth as well," said Marcus.

"Thank you, doctor," said Hayden as he pulled another photo from the pile. "And what about this one?"

"Those are marks on his neck and throat. Some of them are small, deep bruises that appear to be from fingertips. The others are blood bruises made by sucking the skin…more commonly known as hickeys."

"And these?" asked Hayden, presenting photos of Tom's arms.

Dr. Marcus replied, "Both arms have bruising at the tops which are indicative of hands gripping them. Then the wrists…those are more rope burns…deep cuts from his restraints."

"What about this one?"

The doctor looked at the photo of Tom's battered torso. "Obviously there are a large number of bruises there, but not all of them from the same source. Most of the bruising on his stomach appears to be from fists, while the ones on his chest and ribs look to be from blunt objects…possibly shoes…two or three different kinds."

Tom didn't know how much more of this he could take. Having perfect strangers stare at his exposed body and injuries was bad enough, but his mother…if he had his way, she would never see them…never know exactly what had happened or how hurt he had been. Dr. Hirsch had helped him with some mind relaxation exercises to keep from thinking about things that might upset him during the trial. So far, they had been only slightly effective. He stared straight ahead at a point on the wall just beyond the judge's bench. There was nothing…no one…else in the room that he dared look at.

"And here?" asked Hayden as he flipped the next photo over.

"Those are the bruises on his back…again, appearing to have been made by shoes. The especially dark ones on his lower back…the blows there actually extended deep enough to bruise his kidneys. There was quite a lot of blood in his urine for several days," said Marcus.

"So," said the D.A., putting away the photos, "what other injuries did Officer Hanson sustain from this beating?"

The doctor took a deep breath. "Well, we were correct in our suspicions about internal bleeding. He had a rupture in his spleen and it had to be surgically removed. He had a severe concussion as well as a hairline fracture of the skull. Three of his ribs were broken and two cracked. He was in shock and suffering from dehydration. We also did blood tests to assess for any sexually transmitted diseases."

"I have no further questions for Dr. Marcus, Your Honor," said Hayden.

"Ms. Sheffield? Your witness," said Judge Andrews.

"Thank you, Your Honor," she said as she approached the stand. "Dr. Marcus, the defense is not disagreeing that Tom Hanson was attacked, as your testimony so colorfully showed, but rather that he was _not_ attacked by Mr. Eckert. Was there anything about the victim's injuries that told you Lee Eckert caused them?"

"Of course not," said Marcus. "There's no way to…"

"What about the sexual activity? We already know from Ms. Hicks' testimony that some of the semen present was from my client, but that only proves sexual activity between them. Can you conclude from that evidence that the sexual activity was not consensual?" asked Sheffield.

"Well," the doctor began, "normally when a victim comes in with signs of sexual activity as well as physical injuries, we do preliminarily conclude that the two are related."

"But that's not always the case, is it?"

"No, not always," he replied.

Sheffield continued, "Aside from the physical injuries which have not been proven to have been caused by Mr. Eckert, is there any proof that this sexual activity was non-consensual?"

The doctor looked puzzled. "Well, the tearing around the anal area would suggest…"

"Could that have been caused by rough _consensual_ sex?" the defense attorney asked pointedly.

"Of course, but…"

"So your answer is 'yes'? The evidence of violent sexual activity could be the result of rough, consensual sex?"

Dr. Marcus said, "Well, it _could_ be, but…"

"One more thing, doctor," Sheffield interrupted. "The evidence showed that semen from Officer Hanson was also present, correct?"

"Yes."

"In his underwear, on his body, and on a sheet found in Mr. Eckert's apartment, correct? Mixed with Mr. Eckert's semen?"

"Yes."

"And semen is released when a man has an orgasm, correct," she asked.

"Yes," Marcus answered. "But a man can…"

"A man's erection and subsequent orgasm happen when he is sexually aroused and experiencing sexual pleasure, isn't that right?"

"Yes, but..."

"Thank you, sir. I have no further questions," said Sheffield and she returned to her seat at the defense table.

"Your Honor," said Hayden, standing. "I'd like to redirect."

"Go ahead," responded the judge.

Hayden spoke from behind the table. "Dr. Marcus, was the physical appearance of Officer Hanson when he arrived consistent with other _rape_ victims that you have treated?"

"Yes, it was," answered Marcus.

"And in your professional opinion as a medical doctor, is it possible for a man to have an erection and an orgasm _without_ being sexually aroused?"

"Yes, it's not only possible, it's quite common."

"How so?" asked Hayden.

"Any sort of physical contact with the genitals can cause an erection, whether or not the man is engaged in sexual activity. And if something sexual _is_ going on, whether he's enjoying it or not, his body is going to respond to the stimulation," said the doctor.

"So he would have no control over it?"

"That's correct."

"And it would not necessarily indicate sexual pleasure?" asked the D.A.

"Right," said Marcus. "It's a physical response by the body."

"Thank you, Dr. Marcus. No further questions." Hayden sat down.

"The witness is dismissed," said Judge Andrews. "Court will adjourn until noon tomorrow."

The jury filed out of the room as did Eckert, escorted by two court officers. The people seated in the gallery got up to leave as well, including Doug and Mrs. Hanson, but Tom stayed seated as D.A. Hayden approached. "Hi, folks…say, uh…before you leave, I'd like to talk to Tom a minute." He looked at Tom and said, "Tom, would you come with me to the conference room?"

Tom was still off in his own world, feeling sick, trying his best to stay as removed from the situation as he could. The doctor's testimony was grueling to hear, but the defense's cross examination was even worse. He was desperately regretting giving in and cooperating with the district attorney with prosecuting Eckert. He steeled himself and put his best 'I'm okay' look on his face and stood up. He smiled at his mother and told her he would meet her outside in a few minutes. He looked at Hayden. "Let's go."

"I'm putting you on the stand first thing tomorrow."

Tom felt his stomach drop, and he swallowed hard at Hayden's statement. "Already?" he asked.

"Tom, I don't have anyone else to call…just you and Kern. I want you to tell what happened first, then have him confirm everything," said Hayden.

Tom shook his head. "What does it matter what I say or if he confirms it?" His voice was getting louder. "They're up there telling lie after lie about me…it's all just a fucking game and there aren't any rules!"

"It's going to matter what you say, believe me. Look, you saw how I questioned Dr. Marcus again, setting everything straight. Don't worry…whatever they say or try to get you to say, I'm going to take care of it on the redirect, okay?"

"Yeah…yeah…" said Tom as he paced the room. "And I still have to sit there and let that…woman…get me to say things that aren't true…make me look like some lying psycho sexual pervert. And Eckert sits there grinning like a bastard, eating it all up. Jesus! This is _exactly_ why I didn't want to do this! We're giving him exactly what he wants."

Hayden watched the young man pacing back and forth as he ranted. He felt for him…he really did. Truth was, he was starting to have his own doubts about this case and the lack of hard evidence. He just had to hope that the prosecution's testimony against that of a convicted killer would convince the jury. He knew this was going to be extremely rough on Hanson, but he also knew that having his key witness this emotionally passionate about what he was saying…about what had happened to him…that was going to be crucial in getting the jury to believe that Eckert was guilty. "Tom…listen…it's going to be fine. Just answer the questions as best you can…tell what…"

"Oh, I will…I will," said Tom as he stopped his pacing and looked at the D.A. "I'll do it. I'll tell what happened and I'll answer the questions. I'll do what you want. I'll do what everyone wants. And then…" He shook his head. "Then…that's it. I'm done doing what other people want me to do."

Hayden nodded. "I get it, Tom. I do. And I'm sorry you have to go through this." He sighed. _Shit_. Of course Hanson would say something like that right before Hayden had to say something like this. "There's one more thing, Tom. Marvin Kern."

"What about him?" Tom asked suspiciously.

"He wants to see you."

Tom erupted in laughter and looked up at the ceiling. "This is a joke, right? This whole thing is one big fucking joke, right?"

"I'm sorry, Tom," said Hayden. "They let me know during the break this afternoon. He says he won't testify unless he gets to see you first."

"So I guess that's what I have to do, right?" Tom gave the D.A. a disgusted look.

"I can't make you, Tom."

"Can't you?" Tom shot back. He turned his back on Hayden, hands on his hips and head down. He shook his head. "When?"

"I think it would be best to get it done today so tomorrow we can have it out of the way and start fresh with your testimony."

Tom sighed and turned to face the man. "Whatever you say."

An hour later, Tom sat on one side of a glass partition, his heart pounding. He had meant what he said to Scott Hayden. Once this trial was over, he would never again let anyone tell him what to do or how to do it. But for now, he sat waiting to face one of his attackers…waiting to be subjected once again to whatever kind of filth it was he wanted to toss at him. He looked up as Marvin Kern was escorted by an officer to the other side of the partition. The man was stocky, his reddish hair clashing with the orange jumpsuit he wore. But Tom felt nothing as he looked at him. He didn't recognize him or recall having seen him that night…not like he had recalled Walsh's eyes and tattoo.

Kern sat down opposite Tom, the glass between them, and picked up the telephone receiver on his side. When Tom did not do the same, Kern gestured to him to do so, asking "Please."

Tom read Kern's silent lips through the glass and sighed. Resigned to getting this over with, he picked up the receiver but did not speak.

Kern swallowed hard and nervously said, "Hey."

"Hey," Tom answered.

"Um…I just…thanks for seeing me," stuttered Kern.

"What do you want?"

Kern's lips were trembling as he looked down at the table and then back up at Tom. He drew in a shaky breath and said, "I wanted to tell you I'm sorry."

It took a second for the words to sink in before Tom laughed, "Oh yeah?"

Kern bit his lip, a wounded look on his face. "Yeah. I…I didn't know what he was gonna do...I swear. And I…I should have…I mean, I…wish I'd…done something…stopped him."

"Me too," said Tom without emotion.

"I know…I know…I can't excuse it…but…I just…I'm sorry, man." He looked at Tom, his eyes pleading with him to say something…anything…to make him feel better.

"Okay," was the only response from Tom.

Kern nodded, acceptingly, as tears fell. He wiped them away with his sleeve and sniffed. "I have nightmares about it. I know you do too. It's just…I can't get it out of my head…it makes me sick…that I had any part in it."

"Is that all you wanted? You've seen me now. Is that it?"

"Just…I wish…I know you can't…probably…but…can you forgive me?" Kern looked pathetic, his eyes as red as his hair as he pleaded silently with them.

Tom looked at the officer standing behind Kern. "I think we're done now," he said to Kern.

Kern's face fell as the officer reached to stand him up. "Please, man! I'm sorry!" He was crying now. "I'm sorry!"

"Come on," said the officer as he pulled Kern away from his chair. The phone receiver dropped to the table.

Tom watched as Kern was led away. He could no longer hear him, but Kern continued to beg for forgiveness as he was pulled down the hallway. Tom hung the phone up, stood, and walked away.

* * *

**Happy to hear from some of you that the testimony/trial stuff isn't boring. :-) Hope it continues that way and that you are still enjoying the story. Let me know what you think!**


	22. Chapter 22

_Tom watched as Kern was led away. He could no longer hear him, but Kern continued to beg for forgiveness as he was pulled down the hallway. Tom hung the phone up, stood, and walked away._

Tom lay awake in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. It wasn't necessarily the events of the day…the trial, suffering through the testimony, seeing Marvin Kern…or even the anticipation of being called to the stand the next day that kept him awake. The truth was that he had not been sleeping well for days…weeks even…not since Lee Eckert's arrest.

He had thought that having Eckert off the streets and secured behind bars would give him a sense of relief. But all it had done was remind him that soon this would all be finished. Soon there would be no more evidence, no warrants, no arrests, no trials, no convictions. And then what? It would be "over"? He was supposed to move on with his life? He had no idea how he was supposed to do that. Dr. Hirsch had promised to help, and he believed the man, but at this point he couldn't even imagine how he was going to live "normally" again. And with the end of this ordeal in sight he was becoming more and more anxious about it.

The next morning, after what he figured was a total of 2 hours of sleep, albeit not continuous, he finally gave in to his mother's demands that he eat something. She was not pleased, however, when he opted for a slice of toast over all of the heartier choices she offered to make for him. Nor was she pleased when he snapped at her about it.

He felt bad about that. He really did, but every little thing this morning was wearing on him. She asked him several times if he was okay, and he tried his best to respond civilly…to tell her he was fine. But when she told him she was ready to go and would be in the car and he snapped at her again, she finally asked, "Would you rather I not go?" thinking that maybe he was embarrassed to have her be there when he testified.

Tom sighed, exasperated. "No, Mom, that's not it. Of course I want you there!" He sighed again, collected himself, and said, "I'm sorry. I'm just…I'm sorry."

She looked at him sympathetically. "I know," she said finally. "It's going to be okay."

"Yeah." He nodded and looked down. "I'll be right out, okay?"

"Okay," she said, then stopped short before asking again if he was all right. She grabbed her keys and purse and went out the front door.

Tom stood for a moment in the silent, empty room, then sank down on the couch, his face in his hands, and wept. He hadn't cried in a long time, determined to holdup through this process. And he definitely did not want to worry his mother any more than she already was. He appreciated her concern and how she was taking care of him, but he longed for the day when he could be back in his own home and take care of himself again.

Sitting upright, Tom wiped the tears from his face and took a deep breath. He got up and went to the bathroom where he splashed cold water onto his face. He looked at himself in the mirror and sighed before drying off and heading out to the car.

* * *

"This first part should be easy, Tom."

Tom shot a hard look at D.A. Scott Hayden.

"I mean…compared to the cross-examination," Hayden explained. "Come on, Tom. I _know_ this isn't easy…I do. But you've _got_ to stay with me on this and trust me. It's going to be okay."

Tom relaxed a little. "I know…I know. Okay, what else?"

"I want you to go into as much detail as you can while I'm questioning you. I know that's going to be difficult, but the more details you can give the harder it's going to be for them to say it didn't happen."

"They'll say it anyway," said Tom.

"Yes, they will. They'll say a lot of stuff. But that's later, okay? And I'll take care of it. Let's focus on getting through your testimony." Hayden sounded more stressed than he looked.

Tom looked at the D.A., wondering if he had had a restless night as well. He sighed. "Details. Okay, what else?"

Hayden sat down in the chair across from Tom so he could look directly at him. "I need you to hold it together so they know you're telling the truth. But…there has to be some emotion. Too much and they'll think you're faking it…maybe desperate to get back at Eckert for something. Too little and they'll think it didn't happen at all…you're being calculating…lying."

Tom started at the man. "I'm not sure I can remember all of that, let alone _do_ it."

"From what I've observed of you so far, Tom, you'll do fine." Hayden smiled, but it looked forced. "It will come naturally and honestly, and they'll believe you."

"If you say so."

"I do say so. I do this for a living, Tom. I've seen it all, and I know how to read people. You'll do great. Just follow my lead, look directly at me…don't get distracted by anything or anyone else in the courtroom…just talk to me…answer my questions, and if we're interrupted just hang tight and let me handle it."

* * *

Tom stood up when his name was called and stepped out of the row of seats, leaving his mother flanked by Doug and Captain Fuller. He focused his eyes on the stand in front of him as he approached. After being sworn in, he sat and did as Hayden had instructed…directed all of his attention to him. But despite his best efforts, out of the corner of his eye he could see Eckert sitting at the defense table, an innocent look on his face.

"Officer Hanson, you heard the testimony yesterday of Officer Penhall regarding the evening in question, did you not?" asked Hayden.

"Yes, I did," Tom answered.

"Would you please tell the court what happened after he dropped you off at your apartment?"

"He uh…I watched him drive away, and then I started to go into my building, and…" Tom sighed, resigned to pushing ahead with this. "Somebody grabbed me from behind…one hand over my mouth and an arm around me. They pulled me backwards, fast, around the corner and pulled me into the back of a car. I was on the floor…face down. There were two guys in the back."

"You were face down on the floor," said Hayden. "How could you tell how many there were?"

Tom looked at the D.A. as instructed and answered, "I could feel their feet on me, keeping me down. I tried to look up once and got a kick in the head for it. So I stayed down."

"How long were you in the car?"

"It was hard to tell. I was trying to keep track of how far we went and the turns and everything…but I lost track. It was about half an hour, I think."

"Did they say anything during the drive?"

Tom shook his head. "No."

"Okay." Hayden nodded as he paced in front of the witness stand. "Go on. What happened next?"

"The car stopped. Someone got out of the front, and both of the back doors opened. One of the guys in the back pulled me out and onto the ground. Before I had a chance to look up or move…they started kicking me…a lot…all over. I just…I couldn't get away from it…so I just took it. Then they…um…" Tom paused and looked down at his hands. He licked his lips, took a breath, and looked back at Hayden. They…two of them…they pulled me up and dragged me over…to uh…"

"To?"

Tom cleared his throat. "It was Lee Eckert. He was…I was on my knees…they were holding me…and he was standing over me."

"You recognized him?" asked Hayden.

"Yeah…yeah…and he just started punching me in the face…over and over. I was…there was a lot of blood…then…on my face."

"Did he say anything to you?"

"Yeah, he…um…" Tom licked his lips again, but his tongue was dry as well. He reached for the cup of water on the stand and took a drink. As he put the cup back, he noticed that the hand holding it was shaking. "He said a judge let him out of prison. That…um…he learned a lot in there, and…he wanted to teach me some lessons." He looked down again.

"Then what happened?" asked Hayden.

Tom looked up. "He told the other guys to hold me. They pulled me up and he just…started beating on me again. They finally let me go…and I was on the ground. I tried to crawl away from them, but he was kicking me in the back and then the head. Then I passed out…I don't know for how long, but when I woke up…I couldn't see them…but I could hear them. I tried to stay still…quiet…but…I was having trouble breathing. I hurt all over…I was trying not to move…but there was blood…and dirt…in my mouth. I started choking…coughing…and they heard me. They came and got me again."

Hayden walked over to the stand and looked at his witness. "What happened next, Tom?"

Tom looked at him…into his eyes…and felt the silent encouragement coming from him. He took a deep breath and continued. "He had me up against the car."

"Lee Eckert?"

"Yes. He threw me face down over the hood. The others came over and…they were holding me down. He put a rag or something…in my mouth…and tied it there with rope. It was…tight…filled my mouth…I…I couldn't breathe very well. They were leaning on me, and they pulled my arms behind my back and tied my hands together. He turned me over on my back…and started…he was touching me…"

"Touching you how?" asked Hayden.

Tom closed his eyes briefly and slightly shook his head. "He…uh…was putting his hands all over me...and…licking my face…my neck…biting. He started to um…undo my belt, and…I tried to get out from under him…screamed. It made him mad."

"Counsel," interjected the judge, "we're going to need to take a recess soon. Please find an opportunity in the testimony for a break."

"Yes, Your Honor," said Hayden. "Tom, you said it made him mad. What did he do?"

"He started yelling at me to shut up…stop moving. He slammed me against the car again…yelled at the guy holding me to get away...then…" Tom stopped to collect himself, his breathing shaky.

"Then what, Tom?"

"He um…he had his hand on my throat…pushing down. I couldn't breathe…he…put a gun to my head…told me to stop moving or he'd…blow my head off." Tom looked up at the D.A. "So I stopped moving." He looked down again.

"Okay…okay…thank you, Tom," said Hayden. "I think this is a good time for a break."

Judge Andrews announced, "Court will recess for one hour."

Hayden and Tom stayed where they were until the jury filed out and Eckert was led from the room. As Tom left the witness stand, Hayden said to him, "You're doing a good job. How do you feel?"

"Fine," Tom answered as he kept walking toward where the others were waiting. Fuller suggested that they go to the coffee shop across the street and take a break, and the group, minus the D.A., left the courtroom.

* * *

Tom and Fuller sat at a table while Doug and Margaret went to the counter to order. After a moment, Fuller spoke. "How are you doing?"

"Huh?" said Tom, jumping a little.

"I asked you how you're doing," said Fuller, looking concerned.

"Oh yeah. Yeah…okay. I'm okay."

"Well…you seemed to be holding up well on the stand."

"Did I?" Tom looked at the captain.

Fuller started to say something, but stopped as Tom's mother and Doug reached the table, coffee and -muffins in tow. Tom sat silently as the others ate and drank and talked, making observations about anything and everything except the trial.

"Tom," said Margaret, noting his shaking hands, "you should eat something."

He bit back a sarcastic reply and gave her a weak smile. "I'm okay, Mom…thanks."

She looked at him with sad, worried eyes, knowing it would do no good to press him on this.

"Hey, uh…" said Doug. "I'm ready to head back. Tom, you wanna…?"

"Yeah, I'm ready," Tom answered as he got up from the table and headed for the door.

"We'll see you guys over there," said Doug to the captain and Margaret. He ran out the door and shouted, "Hey, wait up!" to Tom who was already at the corner waiting to cross the street. He reached the corner and stood next to his friend while they waited for the light to change. He cast a sideways glance at Tom without saying anything.

"What?" asked Tom.

"Huh? What what?"

"What are you thinking, Doug?"

"Oh…yeah…just uh…are you sure you're okay? I mean, you're kind of shaky and…"

"Ya think?" said Tom as he started to cross the street. "Wonder why that is? You were in the room, right?"

"Yeah," Doug said as he followed his partner across the street. "You gonna be okay getting through the rest of today?"

Tom stopped short just after reaching the sidewalk in front of the courthouse and turned to face Doug. "Look, Doug…leave the worrying to my mom, okay?" He turned and went up the steps, leaving his friend behind. Outside the courtroom he ran into Hayden as he was heading back.

"Hey, Tom…did you have a good break?" the D.A. asked.

"Yeah…thanks."

"Look…uh…can we talk? Privately? In the conference room for just a few minutes?" said Hayden.

"I guess so," answered Tom, and he followed the man into the room.

Hayden sat on the edge of the table and Tom sat in a chair near him. "Tom, I was going to hold off on this until after court today, but…well, I don't think that's being fair to you."

Tom sighed and closed his eyes. "Shit," he muttered, then opened his eyes and looked at Hayden. "What is it now?"

"It's Kern."

Tom shook his head. "No…whatever he wants now, the answer is no. I don't care if he testifies or not."

Hayden looked at Tom. "He's not going to."

"Why?" asked Tom, laughing a small, disgusted laugh. "Because I wouldn't listen to what he had to say? Because I wouldn't forgive him?"

"Because he's dead. He hung himself in his cell last night."

Tom stared at the man without speaking, then got up out of his chair. "Yeah…um…" He looked around the room, then back at Hayden. "I gotta go."

"Tom..."

"I'll uh…" Tom ran a hand over his face. "I'll see you inside." He turned to leave and walked into the chair he had been sitting in, stumbling over it and catching himself by grabbing the back of it. He tried to push it out of his way, but it caught on the carpet and he stumbled further. "God damn it…" he uttered as he continued to struggle with the chair.

"Tom…"

Tom finally got a good hold on the chair. "Stupid fuckin'…" He picked it up and flung it across the room where it hit a podium, knocking it to the floor. "Stupid FUCKING son of a bitch!!" The way clear now, he gave the door a hard push and left the room.

Hayden stayed behind, knowing that the young man needed some time to pull himself together. He set the furniture back where it belonged and then went out to the hallway. He peered into the courtroom and saw Tom's friends and mother seated in the gallery, but there was no sign of Tom. Hayden looked around, and then acting on instinct headed to the men's room…the private one for court officials and trial participants. He opened the door slowly and saw Tom standing over a sink, leaning on it with both hands on the sides, panting heavily.

Tom looked into the mirror and saw Hayden at the door. He grabbed a paper towel and wiped his forehead and then his mouth, tossed the towel into a trash can, and said sheepishly, "I puked."

Hayden stepped inside the small room and watched silently.

Tom paced back and forth and then finally stopped, his back against the wall. He put one hand over his face and an arm across his middle as he broke down. He slid slowly down the wall until he was sitting on the floor against it, his knees drawn up, his head down as his shoulders heaved with the weight of his sobs.

Hayden went to him, kneeling down in front of him and placing a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. "Hey…Tom…look at me." He shook Tom's shoulder a little and repeated. "Look at me."

Tom slowly looked up, his face streaked with tears, his eyes searching…pleading…for something…anything…to make this all better.

"It's going to be okay," said Hayden.

Tom shook his head. "Stop saying that," he managed to choke out through his sobs.

"It is. I mean it. Look…what if…hey, how about it we call it a day, huh?"

"Really?" Tom asked, disbelievingly.

"Really." Hayden nodded. "I'll go talk to the judge, then we'll start over tomorrow, okay?"

Tom tried to answer but was overcome with emotion again. He just nodded his head as he put it back down, crying.

"Okay," said Hayden softly. "Okay." He sat next to Tom, his back against the wall as well, and put an arm around the distraught young man. After a moment, Tom allowed himself to be pulled closer and leaned against Hayden, sobbing harder as the man put his other arm around him. "Okay."

* * *

**Another big thank you to everyone who is still reading and especially those who drop a review or two. Hope everyone likes this one. :-) And I also appreciate everyone who has signed up for story alerts. I'd love to hear what you think as well! **


	23. Chapter 23

"_Okay," said Hayden softly. "Okay." He sat next to Tom, his back against the wall as well, and put an arm around the distraught young man. After a moment, Tom allowed himself to be pulled closer and leaned against Hayden, sobbing harder as the man put his other arm around him. "Okay."_

Late that evening, Scott Hayden sat in his office trying to figure out how he was going to adjust his case now that he no longer had Marvin Kern's testimony to present. The sound of his cell phone ringing on his desk jarred him from his thoughts. "Hayden," he answered.

"Scott…Mark Michaels here."

"Hey, Mark."

"What's going on with the Eckert case? I've been hearing all kinds of crazy things all day," said the detective.

"Yeah, well…crazy or not, they're probably true."

"Kern is dead?"

"Yeah," Hayden answered matter of factly. "He is. Damn it, Mark, I thought we had all our bases covered on this one. We did everything to keep everyone from getting to him, but we didn't protect him from himself."

"So he really did it? Offed himself?" asked Michaels.

"Yeah." Hayden sighed. "Video confirmed it. The officer on duty who was supposed to be watching thought he was asleep and left to get some coffee…not like they could have gotten there in time to save him anyway though."

"Shit. Any idea why he did it?"

"I guess he meant it…all the crying and saying he was sorry and the nightmares," said Hayden.

"Best way he could have shown he was sorry would have been to testify," said Michaels.

"I know…I know."

"How's Hanson doing? I heard you called off early today."

"He was doing pretty good for awhile. I could tell it was getting to him though. But this was more than he could take today. It was pretty bad," said Hayden.

"Damn. Think he's gonna make it through this whole trial?" asked Michaels.

"He's going to have to."

Michaels sighed. "So what now? You have Kern's deposition. Can you introduce that into evidence?"

"It's been done before," answered Hayden. "But I don't know. It's risky. If Eckert's convicted it gives him an open door for an appeal. And he'd probably get out on bond while it's pending. You know what that means."

"Could be months or years before he exhausts all of his appeal options," said Michaels. "And in the meantime he's free as a bird to do whatever he wants or even skip out on his bail."

"The record on dead witness testimonies isn't good. Jurors don't like to convict based on a piece of paper that _we_ say was what the witness said. And that's even if the judge allows it, which is doubtful. I think I'm going to have to go with just Tom on this one."

"Well, if I can do anything to help, let me know."

"Thanks, Mark. I appreciate it."

* * *

"I blew it."

"How so, Tom?" asked Dr. Hirsch.

Tom was sitting on the floor of his bedroom, leaning against the bed, phone in hand. He spoke quietly so as not to disturb his mother who had gone to bed early after the eventful day. "I lost it. I tried so hard…" His voice broke as he continued, "I tried so hard all day to keep it together…but when he told me about Kern…"

"What did that do to you?"

"It just…I just figured…that was it," Tom said simply. "It's over. What do I do now? They aren't going to believe me. And…shit…I wasn't anywhere _near_ being done testifying, and now…now there's no one to back me up…no one to say it really happened."

"_You_ say it really happened, Tom," said Hirsch. "_You_ say it."

Tom sniffed. "What good will that do? It's his word against mine…and that woman is trying to make me look like I'm lying."

"It doesn't matter, Tom. _You_ get up there and _you_ tell the truth. _You_ tell what happened and what he did to you, and that's all that matters. If he walks, he walks…but you've done your part, and the people who really matter…they know the truth."

"What's the point then?" asked Tom.

"The point is," said Hirsch, "you did the right thing. You stood up for yourself and did the right thing. This guy has done a lot of bad things in his life. He'll probably do a lot more. But _you_ got him convicted for murdering that girl. And you're doing your best to get him convicted for this…to make it so he can't hurt anyone else. It takes a lot of courage to do what you're doing."

"No," said Tom softly.

"No what, Tom?"

"No courage," he answered. "I'm scared to death."

"That's what courage is…doing it even though you're scared," said Hirsch. "It's what makes you brave."

"I don't think so. I think…maybe…I used to be…but…shit, I was sitting on the bathroom floor crying like a baby for Christ's sake!"

"It was a normal reaction to everything that happened, Tom. Nothing wrong with that." The psychologist paused. "How are you feeling about tomorrow?"

"Like…I don't know…I have to do it…I just…I don't know…if I can," said Tom. "I just don't know if I can keep doing this."

"You can. You can do it. I know that. Hey listen…I was thinking…would you mind if I sat in on things tomorrow?"

Tom took the phone away from his ear and put his head back, sighing in relief. He had been hoping that the doctor would offer to sit in on the trial for support, but he hadn't felt comfortable asking him.

"Tom? Tom…are you still there?"

Tom put the phone back up to his ear. "Yeah…I'm here. Uh…if you want to come to the trial…yeah…that would be okay," he said, trying to sound indifferent.

Hirsch smiled to himself, glad that Tom had taken him up on his offer. "Okay…good. I'll be there first thing in the morning. So I think we'd better get some sleep then."

"Yeah, you're right," Tom said, knowing full well that sleep would not come easily, if at all, for him that night. "Thank you, Dr. Hirsch. It means a lot to me."

"You're welcome. Happy to do it, Tom. See you tomorrow."

* * *

"Officer Hanson, when we left off yesterday you had testified about being abducted by Lee Eckert and two other men, being beaten by them, tied up, and gagged, and then threatened with a gun. Is that correct?" asked Hayden.

From the witness stand, Tom replied, "Yes, it is."

"Would you please continue with what happened next?"

"Well, he was touching me again and stuff. Then he…he undid my belt and unzipped my jeans…pulled me up off my back and turned me over…face down…on the hood of the car. He told one of the other guys to come over and hold me down…said he might let them…have a go at me too." Tom looked at Hayden. "That's what he said…'have a go' at me. He said it was like that in jail…I didn't have a say in who could…do things to me. The other guy was leaning on my back, and I…I couldn't breathe very well…everything hurt so bad…and I heard him…Eckert…I heard him unzip his pants." Tom shuddered. "Then he had his hands on my hips, and he pulled my jeans down." He stopped to take a breath and was grateful when Hayden filled the silence with another question.

"He pulled your jeans down? And your underwear too?"

Tom looked up at the D.A. and then back down again. "Yeah," he said quietly.

"Your Honor!" Rosa Sheffield's voice rang out from the defense table. "Would you please ask the witness to speak up? We were unable to hear his answer."

Judge Andrews directed his attention toward Tom. "Officer Hanson, please repeat your answer and be sure to speak into the microphone."

Tom leaned forward, closer to the microphone, and said, "I said 'yes'."

"What happened next, Tom?" asked Hayden.

"He pushed my shirt up…had his hands all over me. He was up against me…grabbed me…between my legs." Tom shook his head. "I tried to get away. I tried hard, but…he started to…I knew what he was gonna do…I just knew it. And…the guy who was holding me down…he kind of let up, and I got out from under him. But…" He put his head down.

"But what?"

Tom looked up. "Eckert grabbed me… he was furious…cussing and screaming at the other guy…he slammed my face into the car a few times…told me again he'd kill me. I…my head…he almost knocked me out." His lips were trembling and he blinked back tears, shrugging. "And that was it." He looked down at his hands, clasping them to try to keep them from shaking. "He uh…that's when…" He stopped speaking.

"Tom?" said Hayden gently.

"Uh…" Tom looked back up at the man, seeing the encouragement in his eyes. "That's when he…he forced himself inside of me." There. He'd said it. It was out…in front of everyone…the judge, the jury, the spectators, his friends…his mother. He felt the nausea stirring in his stomach and fought the urge to get sick, concentrating on the D.A. and his next question.

"What did you do?"

"I screamed…I cried…I was begging him to stop…but…I was gagged and…everything just came out all muffled anyway…and he was laughing and he said I was bleeding a lot and how good it felt and…God…it hurt so bad…and I couldn't breathe…I was choking…and he just kept doing it." Tom looked at Hayden with tearful eyes, as though they were the only two people in the room, and spoke directly to him. "He just kept doing it. He said I liked it." He shook his head, and the tears fell. "I didn't. I didn't like it, but…but…he…touched me, and…"

"Touched you where?" asked Hayden, hating every minute of this as much as Tom hated it.

Tom lowered his head. "He grabbed me…again…between my legs…my crotch." He tried to control his breathing and thought briefly about searching out Dr. Hirsch in the crowd but was afraid of what else…or who else…he might see if he did that. "He was moving in and out of me and…rubbing me, and…it…I…was hard…and he made me come. Then he pulled out." Shame washed over him as well as relief from getting it out, but the nausea was threatening once again and he concentrated on keeping it down. _Please…please…don't puke here._

"Officer Hanson?" he heard the judge say.

Tom turned to face the man in the robe sitting to his right. "Sir?"

"I asked you if you were all right," said Judge Andrews.

"Um…" Tom looked around and saw Hayden eyeing him with concern. "Yeah…yes…yes, sir." He directed his attention back to the judge. "I'm okay."

"Just the same," said Andrews, "we'll take a twenty minute recess."

Everyone filed out of the courtroom as Tom and Hayden remained in place. "Come on," said Hayden. "Let's go get something to drink."

Tom shook his head vehemently.

"In the conference room. No one else will be there. Come on." Hayden opened the small gate to the witness box and looked at Tom who, after a moment, stood up and followed him out of the room.

* * *

Tom sat at the table with his unopened bottle of water.

"You're sure you don't want to see your mom real quick? Or anyone else?" asked Hayden.

The young man nodded, fiddling with the cap on the bottle, twisting it so that it was almost open, then tightening it again, over and over.

"Dr. Hirsch?"

Tom looked up momentarily, then down again, and shook his head.

Hayden sighed. "I know you don't want to hear it again, but you're doing good. And we're getting there…we'll have a lunch break soon. Can you make it until then? Keep going?"

Tom nodded and finished twisting the bottle cap, moving instead to the label which he began to slowly peel away from the bottle.

The D.A. watched him for a minute and then said, "Well…I guess we'd better be getting back then."

Tom stood up and walked out the door, tossing the still unopened bottle into the trash on his way.

* * *

"He said we weren't done yet."

"What did he do then, Tom?" asked Hayden.

"He was inside me again…saying things about…payback. He was…moving really fast…hard. I was getting sick…crying…and I…I kind of started to black out, but…he pulled me up and slapped me…a couple of times…telling me to stay awake. Then he was doing it again…and he finally…he came…inside of me." Tom put his head down.

"Okay…okay," said Hayden. "Then what?"

"He pulled out…pulled my pants back up and turned me onto my back. He was touching my face…running his hand through my hair…telling me I did good. He was…" Tom squirmed in his seat involuntarily. "…he had his face in my neck again…licking me…saying things in my ear. And he said…it was time to end it. He pulled me up and pushed me, and I fell on the ground. The other guys came back and…they were kicking me." His breath was coming faster now…causing him to struggle to get the words out. "I just…I wanted to die. I wanted it to be over. There was so much pain…I couldn't take any more."

Hayden looked at him sympathetically. "What happened next?"

"They dragged me over…behind a dumpster…dropped me on the ground. Eckert was there…I was on the ground…he pulled me up…put the gun up to my head. He said it was over…asked me if I was ready to die…told me…he told me God wasn't going to help me." Tom put a hand over his mouth to stifle the choked sound that tried to come out. _Almost over…it's almost over._

"He didn't shoot you though."

Tom shook his head. "No. He laughed…waved the gun around…said he wasn't going to kill me. He said…he wanted to me live with it…remember it…be afraid that he might come back and do it again. Then he hit me…with the gun." He looked up at Hayden, eyes wide. "I was knocked out. I…I don't remember much…after that. I kept waking up and wondering…why I wasn't dead yet…wishing I was. And then…I guess they found me."

"Yes…yes, they did. Thank you, Tom. Your Honor, I'm done until redirect."

"Very well," said Judge Andrews. "Court will recess for lunch and reconvene at one o'clock."

Hayden approached the witness stand as everyone stood to leave. Tom was sitting with his head down, his fingers intertwined tightly. The D.A. leaned over, trying to catch Tom's eye as he spoke. "Tom? You okay?"

The officer nodded without looking up.

"Come on…let's get something to eat."

Tom shook his head.

"We can go with the others, or not…whatever you want. Or you can go somewhere by yourself."

There was no response.

Hayden turned to look behind him and saw Mrs. Hanson, Fuller, Doug, and Dr. Hirsch waiting…watching them. He shook his head and shrugged. He saw Hirsch say something to the others, who then left the room as Hirsch approached the stand. Hayden stood up to leave, nodding at the doctor as he passed.

Hirsch crouched down in front of the witness stand to bring himself down to Tom's level. He reached out and put a hand on Tom's shoulder, the young man flinching slightly at the touch but not pulling away. "Tom? Can you look at me?"

Tom took a deep breath and swallowed hard before raising his head slowly to look at Hirsch.

"Let's go to the conference room and talk, okay? Just you and I."

"I don't want to go in there anymore," Tom said softly and sadly.

Hirsch contemplated the words and then said gently, "Okay. Let's go outside then…and walk. And if you want to, we can talk. If not, that's okay too. But let's not stay in here. Okay?"

Tom said nothing but seemed to be relaxing.

"Okay," said Hirsch. "Come on then." He stood up, keeping contact with Tom's shoulder, and Tom stood up after him. "Come on." As Tom stepped out of the witness box, Hirsch put his arm around his shoulder, and they walked together out of the courtroom.

* * *

**It's still not boring, right? The trial and such? I hope not! A big thank you to everyone still reading and especially the faithful reviewers who never let me down! :-)**


	24. Chapter 24

"_Okay," said Hirsch. "Come on then." He stood up, keeping contact with Tom's shoulder, and Tom stood up after him. "Come on." As Tom stepped out of the witness box, Hirsch put his arm around his shoulder, and they walked together out of the courtroom._

Tom and Dr. Hirsch stepped outside the courthouse, the brilliant sunshine failing to brighten up either of their moods. Tom was still stoic about what he had been through so far that day, and Hirsch was worried about him. It seemed that the farther along this procedure went, the bigger a toll it was taking on the young officer. It would have been bad enough even with additional testimony and evidence, but having to bear the burden of his words alone making or breaking the case…that was wearing heavier and heavier on Tom. He was in no mental shape to take that on, and the psychologist was beginning to wonder if his physical shape was any better.

They passed a vending cart and Hirsch called out for Tom to hold up while he bought a sandwich. "You want one? I'm buying."

Tom shook his head.

"I guess you had a big breakfast then, huh?"

Tom shrugged.

"You didn't, did you?" said Hirsch as he indicated to the vendor that he wanted two sandwiches. "And from the looks of you, you didn't go to sleep after we talked either." He took the sandwiches and two bottles of water and trotted to catch up to Tom who had already started to walk away. "Hey…come on…over here." Hands full, Hirsch gestured with his head to a small park with benches. The two of them walked over to a bench under a tree and sat down.

Dr. Hirsch handed one of the wrapped sandwiches to Tom, but he would not take it, shaking his head. "Take it," said Hirsch, and then he set the sandwich on Tom's leg and put one of the bottles of water next to him on the bench.

For a few minutes, the two men sat in silence, Hirsch eating and Tom sitting. Finally the doctor said, "You need to eat something, Tom." He almost choked on his water in surprise when he heard Tom actually respond to him.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I'll get sick," Tom said matter of factly.

"You'll get sick if you _don't_ eat," answered Hirsch.

"At least I won't puke. I almost…if I had something in me, it would have been all over that courtroom this morning."

"It's going to get worse, Tom," said Hirsch as he took a bite of his sandwich.

Tom looked at him in surprise. "Aren't you supposed to tell me it's okay? I'm doing good? It'll be over soon? Everything's fine?"

"No," replied Hirsch.

"No?"

"I'm not going to lie to you, Tom. I don't think that helps you in any way. The fact is, you need to be prepared for what's going to happen…expect it…know how to handle it. And I'm telling you…it's not going to be good."

"Thanks a lot," said Tom sarcastically.

"Look, you do what you need to do up there to get through this. And if that means puking all over everything, then so be it."

Tom had to laugh a little at that. "The D.A. told me to stay calm, but not too calm…keep my eyes on him…"

"Forget all that," Hirsch interrupted.

"Yeah?"

"Tom, that defense attorney is going to show you no mercy. You have to let everyone see what this has done to you, and they'll _believe_ it happened. _Look_ at that bastard when you're telling what he did to you. Cry if you feel like it. Yell if you feel like it. And by all means, puke if you feel like it!" Hirsch looked at Tom.

Tom looked back at the man, and they were silent for a moment before they both laughed at the thought of Tom spewing a half digested vendor cart sandwich all over Rosa Sheffield. But inside, he still felt the fear and dread, anticipating the afternoon on the stand.

* * *

Defense Attorney Rosa Sheffield approached the witness stand with a gleam in her eye. This was what she lived for…tearing apart an opponent's case piece by piece, and if she had to destroy a witness or two in the process, that was fine with her. The more ruthless she was, the more notorious she became, her fame…and income…rising rapidly with every case she won.

"Officer Hanson, you say you were abducted from in front of your apartment that night, is that correct?"

"Yes," answered Tom.

"Did anyone see this happen? Or was there any evidence to prove that it did?"

Tom waited, and when Hayden did not object, he answered the question. "No."

"Your partner, Officer Penhall, testified that he dropped you off and that you were fine when he left…that he did not see anyone else in the area nor did he see anyone grab you."

"Is that a question?" asked Tom.

Sheffield smiled at him. Perhaps he would prove to be a worthy adversary for her after all. But she doubted it. She was just getting started.

"So it's possible, according to the evidence…or lack of it…that you aren't telling the truth about what happened. Isn't that so?"

"No. It happened."

"Oh, I believe something happened. We all saw the photos of your injuries. I just don't believe that my client had anything to do with it. The fact remains that there is no proof that you were actually kidnapped from in front of your house by anyone, let alone Mr. Eckert," she said.

"Objection. Counsel is making statements, not asking questions," said Hayden.

"Sustained," said Judge Andrews. "Ms. Sheffield, save it for your concluding arguments. Get back to questioning."

"Okay, Officer Hanson," she continued as she paced in front of the witness stand, "so now…somehow…you're out at Lotus Park. That much we know is true since that's where you were found. And you say you were beaten by two men and Mr. Eckert, is that correct?"

"Yes," Tom answered.

"And yet, as CSI Hicks testified, there was no evidence found to prove that Mr. Eckert was involved in this attack."

"He was there."

"You say he was," Sheffield said, "but the lack of evidence says otherwise."

"His DNA was on me," said Tom pointedly.

"Oh yes…his DNA. His semen was found on you and in you, wasn't it?"

Tom clenched his teeth before answering, "Yes, it was."

"Which doesn't prove that he beat you…only that you had sex with him."

"I didn't have sex with him." Tom could feel his heart rate increasing. "He raped me." He said the words with more bravado than he actually felt, feeling the woman bearing down on him as she walked closer to the stand.

"Well now," she said, "there's no proof of that either, is there?"

"Objection, Your Honor!" This time Hayden shouted the words. "It is not up to this witness to verify all of the previous testimony already presented."

"Sustained," said the judge.

The defense attorney looked at Tom who was beginning to look shaken. She smiled at him again. "Officer Hanson, how many times have you been to Mr. Eckert's apartment?"

Tom shook his head. "I've never been."

"Never?"

"No," he said, shaking his head again.

"Surely you were there at _some_ point during the two months you were undercover, pretending to be his friend."

"Well…yeah…but that…"

"So you _were_ there?" Sheffield asked.

"Yeah…back then…but not now…not at the place he has now…after he got out of prison."

"So," continued the woman as she walked back and forth in front of the jury box, "if you've never been there, there should be no evidence of you there, is that correct?"

"Yes," Tom agreed.

"But the CSI testified that a sheet was found in Mr. Eckert's apartment with your DNA on it…your semen and blood. Can you explain how it got there if you were, as you say, never in the apartment?"

"No. He must have…I don't know…he must have had it with him at the park." Tom looked back and forth between Sheffield and Hayden who was sitting quietly but listening intently.

Sheffield laughed. "Are you really asking us to believe that he would take a sheet from his home with him, planning to assault you and then plant it back at his house?" She walked closer and looked Tom in the eye.

Tom felt the eyes of everyone on him, waiting in the silent room for his response. It sounded preposterous, even to him, but he had no other explanation. "He must have," he finally said.

"Well," said the defense attorney, "so far it seem that the only actual evidence we have of _where_ there was sexual activity between you and Mr. Eckert is in his apartment, and yet you deny having been there. Officer Hanson, isn't it true that you initially did not want to press charges against Mr. Eckert?"

Tom felt his stomach drop. He looked at Hayden who remained silent.

Sheffield followed his gaze to the D.A. and then looked back at Tom. "Answer the question, please. Is it true that you did not want Mr. Eckert prosecuted for this 'crime'?"

_I knew it…I knew it…I knew it._ Tom felt himself getting lightheaded, but he looked at the woman and replied, "Yes."

She smiled satisfactorily. "And isn't it true that you agreed to testify against Mr. Eckert only after you were persuaded by the detective and your coworkers?"

"No! No…they…they said I…" _…didn't have a choice._ Tom stopped himself before saying the final words, realizing how they would sound.

"Officer Hanson," said the judge, "answer the question."

Tom looked at the judge and then back at Sheffield. "It's true," he said, his voice shaking. "I didn't want to testify. But…"

"Isn't it also true," she interrupted, "that you visited Mr. Eckert while he was in prison?"

Tom was breathing harder now, feeling sweat break out on his forehead. "I…I did…but…"

"Was this visit related to the case you had worked on with him?"

"No…it…"

"Was it related to _anything_ official?" Sheffield asked.

Defeated, Tom sighed and quietly answered, "No."

"So it was a personal visit?"

"Yes," he said, eyes cast downward. "I just wanted to…"

"Just a 'yes' will suffice," said Sheffield.

"Objection, Your Honor. The witness is not being allowed to finish his answers," said Hayden.

"Overruled. He answered the question, Counsel. You can dig for more in your re-direct," said Judge Andrews. "Continue, Ms. Sheffield."

"So, to sum this up, Officer," said the defense attorney, "you are telling us that you were never in Mr. Eckert's current apartment, even though a sheet with your DNA on it was found there. You did not want to prosecute or testify against the man you claim attacked and assaulted you. And furthermore you actually made a personal visit to this man while he was in prison. Did I get everything right? This is what you are saying?" She cocked her head to the side as she looked at him.

Tom's head was down, and he nodded.

"Please answer out loud, Officer Hanson," instructed the judge.

Tom raised his head and looked at Sheffield. "Yes," he said softly.

"Thank you," she said before looking at the judge. "Your Honor, the defense has some more questions, but we would like time to review some of the evidence again before doing so. Could we take a short recess?"

"Mr. Hayden, do you have any objection to that?" the judge asked the D.A.

"No, Your Honor," replied Hayden.

"Court will reconvene in half an hour then."

Unlike previous recesses, this time Tom stood up immediately and quickly left the stand, walking briskly past his mother and the others who were in the gallery. Once he got out of the courtroom, however, he had no idea where to go or what to do, so he paced back and forth rapidly.

The door to the courtroom was open now, other spectators and participants filing out. Hayden exited, followed closely by Tom's friends. "Hey…hey, Tom, calm down."

Tom laughed and shook his head as he continued to pace. "Calm down? Do you _hear_ what she's _saying_ in there?!"

"Yes…yes, and I told you…I'll take care of it in re-direct."

Tom's mother approached him and took his arm. "Honey, listen…it's going to be okay."

He jerked his arm away and backed up, shaking his head again. "No, no, no…this is _exactly_ why I didn't want to do this! I _told_ you guys…I _told_ you I didn't want to do this and you said it would be okay! And now _I'm_ the one sitting up there looking like a fucking idiot because _you_ couldn't put a case together!"

"Tom!" hissed the D.A. "Get over here! Now!" He indicated down the hall and Tom had no choice but to follow him as the others pressed closely around him. The group filed into the conference room and Hayden closed the door loudly behind them. "Are you _trying_ to get this case dismissed? Because if you go spouting off stuff like that within earshot of the defense or _anyone_ they can call as a witness, that's exactly what will happen!"

"It's not going to matter!" Tom shouted back. "It doesn't matter _what_ I say, it comes out all wrong and it looks like I'm lying!"

"I told you," said Hayden, "I'm…"

"If you tell me one more time that you'll 'take care of it in re-direct', I'm done…that's it! I don't give a shit what you're _going_ to do!" Tom was pacing again, back and forth, his hands on his head in frustration. He stopped and looked at Hayden, pointing a finger at him as he continued, "You blew it! Admit it! You have no evidence, you lost all the witnesses, and you're putting me up there to hang for it!"

"Tom!" his mother exclaimed.

He looked at her angrily. "You know it's true! And you…all of you…you're just sitting there listening and watching that bitch humiliate me up there! And…" Tom's tirade was slowly losing steam as he tried to keep his composure. He turned his back on them, head down as he felt it pounding and his stomach churning. "And…" He bent over, hands on his knees. "…him…he's there…he's watching…and…" He was finding it harder to breathe. "All those…people…too…I…" He stood up straight, his back still to the others, wavered a moment, and then suddenly he was falling.

Mrs. Hanson cried out, "Oh my God!" as Hayden rushed forward, catching him halfway down and easing him to the floor.

Fuller, Penhall, and Hirsch crowded around as the D.A. and Margaret knelt next to Tom. "Back up…back up," said Hayden. "Give him some air." He took off his suit jacket and rolled it up, placing it under the unconscious young man's head.

"Should we call 9-1-1?" asked Doug anxiously as Hirsch left the room to notify court officials of what had happened.

"Hang on," said Hayden. "I think he's coming around."

"Tommy?" said his mother as she held a hand to his pale face. Fuller brought her a handkerchief he had soaked at the water fountain, and she placed it against her son's forehead as his eyelids started to flutter.

Tom looked up at the faces above him, confused. He blinked his eyes a few times. "What…?" And then he remembered where he was and realized what had happened. He struggled to sit up, but his mother and Hayden kept him down.

"Whoa…hang on…take it easy," said Hayden. "You fainted. Just lie still a minute and then we'll get you up."

Tom closed his eyes again, feeling miserable. His head was aching and he was nauseous, and he wanted nothing more than to be out of this room and away from everyone and everything. _God…please…please._

Hirsch returned and came over to whisper to Hayden, "The judge wants to see you in his chambers, but he's letting everyone go for the day."

"Good," said Hayden. "Thanks." He turned his attention back to Tom. "Hey…you ready to try to sit up?"

Tom opened his eyes and nodded. With the help of Margaret and Hayden, he slowly sat up to a sitting position. His mother used the wet cloth to wipe the sweat from his face and then placed it against the back of his neck. He reached out and took her free hand, squeezing it, and she looked at him. There were no words, but his expression showed both his gratitude for her and his regret for having snapped at her again, and her own expression showed only understanding and love.

* * *

Hayden entered Judge Andrews' chambers to find Rosa Sheffield there as well. He took a seat next to her opposite the judge at his desk.

"Sorry to hear your witness isn't feeling well, Scott," Sheffield said with more than a hint of arrogance.

"Thank you," he replied, refusing to play her game.

"Mr. Hayden, we're going to reconvene at nine tomorrow morning. Will your witness be ready to appear at that time?" asked Andrews.

"Yes, sir, I believe so."

"Good," the judge answered. "There's one other thing. The defendant has asked to exercise his right to confront his accuser."

Hayden nearly came out of his chair as he exclaimed, "What?!"

"He has that right, Counsel. You know that. He wants to question the witness."

The D.A. looked at the woman sitting next to him with a smug smile on her face. It was all he could do to keep from reaching over and strangling her with his bare hands. "Your Honor," he said, trying to remain calm and professional. "All they're trying to do is intimidate and harass the witness."

"They haven't done _anything_ yet, Scott. And they won't be allowed to harass anyone. I'll see to that," said the judge.

"Just _doing_ this is harassing him! Judge, this isn't just a witness. He's the victim here. And he's already in a fragile state. You know that. You _saw_ that! He isn't going to be able to handle this."

"If you want to get a psychologist to verify that for the court, that's your right. But you know as well as I do, Counsel, that if you stop this from happening and that man is convicted, he's going to appeal and he's going to win and we'll be right back here starting all over again."

Hayden sat back in his chair and sighed. He knew the judge was right. And even worse, he knew that Tom was right. He was blowing this case. Everything was going wrong, and an innocent victim was paying the price. "Fine," he finally said. "But I'll need more time to prepare my witness."

"We'll convene at noon then," said the judge. "Have a good evening, Counsel."

* * *

**Sorry this one took so long to put up, but I hope you like it! I know things seem pretty dark, but it _is _an angsty fic after all. ;-) Just trust me though. As always, I appreciate everyone who reads and those who review make me extra happy! :-)  
**


	25. Chapter 25

_Hayden sat back in his chair and sighed. He knew the judge was right. And even worse, he knew that Tom was right. He was blowing this case. Everything was going wrong, and an innocent victim was paying the price. "Fine," he finally said. "But I'll need more time to prepare my witness."_

"_We'll convene at noon then," said the judge. "Have a good evening, Counsel."_

Tom lay on the couch in his mother's living room, one arm across his eyes. He had just finished eating supper, forcing himself to eat more than he wanted but still less than his mother would have liked. And now he would rather be in his room alone with the door closed, but he sensed that his mother wanted him to stay close where she could keep an eye on him. The fainting spell had frightened her greatly, he knew.

He had come very close to telling her that he was ready to go home to his apartment. He simply couldn't stand having to come back to this house with her every night, the events of the day going unspoken throughout the evening. He knew how much it was hurting her, and she knew how much it was embarrassing him, but they had been going on day by day pretending that it wasn't happening. He sighed softly as he heard the kitchen light switch click off, knowing that she was coming into the room now, dishes finished. He uncovered his eyes and sat up as he heard her sit down in the chair next to the couch.

For several moments they sat in silence until finally Margaret looked at him and said, "We need to talk about it, Tom."

He looked back at her. "I know."

"I've been very patient with you. And I've tried…"

"I know, Mom. I know," he interrupted.

She moved from her chair to sit by him on the couch. "No, I don't think you do."

"Mom…"

"Tom…wait," she said. "Listen to me. I know you appreciate everything I've done. I'm not talking about that. But you need to understand…" She stopped for a moment as her voice broke. "You need to understand what this is doing to me."

Tears welled up in Tom's eyes as he said, "I'm sorry. I know. I wish…I just…I hate that I'm hurting you."

"God, sweetie," his mother responded, reaching out to take his hand. She shook her head. "It's not you. Please don't think that. It's not your fault."

He looked at her. "But I…if…"

"No," she said, shaking her head again. "It's _not_ your fault. Someone else did this to you…to us. And the thing is…you aren't the only one hurting. I try to stay strong for you, but inside…my heart…my soul…they hurt so badly for you…from the moment I saw Captain Fuller walking up to the house to right this very minute."

"I know," Tom said, looking down and sniffing.

"You don't know, Tom. You can't know unless you're a mother," she said. He looked up and she placed a hand to his cheek as her own tears began to fall. "You're a part of me. You're my baby. You always will be. When I look at you now…and…when you were lying in the hospital…that's what I see. I see my child…hurt…and scared…and I can't do anything about it. I feel so helpless. To a mother, that's the worst kind of hell."

"Then…why are you there? Every day…you sit there and have to hear about it over and over."

She smiled sadly at him. "Same answer. I'm a mother. That's what we do…no matter how hard it is. I'm always going to be there for you." Tom nodded and looked down. His mother leaned over to look into his eyes. "It's hard for you too, isn't it?" she asked. He nodded again, wiping a tear from his face. She put her arms around him and pulled him close. He buried his face in her shoulder and cried as she held him. "I already know what happened, sweetie. There's nothing that you or they could say that would shock me or surprise me now, okay? You don't have to worry about it." She began to rock him slowly. "You don't need to be embarrassed or ashamed. You didn't do anything wrong. Okay?" He nodded again but did not look up. Margaret settled back into the couch with her son in her arms. "Okay, baby. It's going to be okay."

* * *

"Where is everyone?" Tom asked District Attorney Scott Hayden.

"We need to talk," said Hayden, and he led Tom and his mother to the conference room. He had decided to let them come to the courthouse on time…to not tell them that court would be starting at noon instead of 9:00. He knew that he was going to need that time to prepare Tom to face Eckert in court.

They entered the room, and Tom's stomach dropped when he saw that his psychologist, Dr. Hirsch, was already in the room. Tom sighed as he sat down. "What's wrong now?" he asked.

Hayden looked at Hirsch before replying. "Listen, Tom, it's not as bad as it's going to sound, okay?"

Tom took a deep breath, resolving to stay calm. The talk with his mother the night before had helped him feel much better about the whole process. He knew he had to resign himself to getting through this, no matter what it took. "What is it?" he asked.

"Well, you know the defense isn't finished questioning you. And you know we'll get our chance to refute anything they say or make you say that isn't right. We just…you need to get through this, that's all, okay? You just need to do it."

"What is it?" Tom asked again.

Hayden tried to make this as easy as possible. "Eckert wants to ask you a few questions," he stated simply, knowing Eckert wanted a lot more than that.

Ignoring the gasp from his mother, Tom asked calmly, "On the stand?"

"Yes."

"He wants to question me? On the stand?"

Dr. Hirsch spoke up. "Tom, I think you…"

"Okay," said Tom. "Let's do it."

The other three people in the room looked at him in surprise.

"Tom, are you sure you're okay with this?" asked Hirsch tentatively.

"Okay with it?" Tom laughed humorlessly. "Hell no, I'm not okay with it. But…I'm tired of it. I'm tired of their games and I'm tired of sitting up there every day and having no control over what people say about me, and I just want to get it over with…I just want this to end."

The doctor looked at the D.A., then said to Tom, "You understand what going to happen this afternoon, right? Eckert will be in front of you, asking you questions and saying things that…well, it's going to be bad, Tom."

"I know."

"He's going to make it look like you're lying," the doctor continued.

Hayden added, "And you don't get to question him. You do understand that? He is exercising his right as a defendant to confront his accuser. And you'll have to answer him under oath, no matter what he asks."

"I know," Tom said again.

Hirsch and Hayden looked at each other again and then at Tom's mother who looked ashen but did not say anything.

"Well then," said the D.A., "we've got a few hours to go over everything and prepare, so…"

"I'm ready," said Tom.

* * *

Dr. Hirsch and Mrs. Hanson left the room, and for the next two and a half hours, Tom and Hayden discussed what would be happening that afternoon.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," began Judge Andrews, "as you are aware, the defense is currently cross-examining one of the prosecution's witnesses. The defendant, Lee Aldon Eckert, has decided to exercise his right to confront his accuser, which means that he will be allowed to question the witness this afternoon. You should make no judgment based on this fact. Rather, you should consider only the testimony given, just as you would if the defense attorney was doing the questioning. Thomas Hanson, please take the stand, and remember you are still under oath." He looked at the defense table. "Mr. Eckert, you may begin."

Eckert stood and approached the stand. He looked as he had throughout the trial…clean shaven, neat hair, dress clothes.

Tom had avoided looking at Eckert since this whole process had begun, but now he would have no choice. He sensed the man approaching and his eyes rose to look at him.

_Hey there, buddy!_

Tom jumped and then shook his head slightly. _Oh shit._ This was going to be harder than he thought. He could feel his insides churning already and his hands were shaking. He clasped them together tightly. He would die before he would let Eckert see the effect he was having on him now.

"Are you okay?"

Tom looked up. "What?"

Eckert was smiling. "I asked you if you were okay."

_Are you fucking kidding me?!_ The man who had put him through so much hell and torture was actually asking him if he was okay? _This can't be real…this just can't be real._ Tom steeled himself and answered, "Yes."

"Good," said Eckert as he started to pace in front of the stand. "So, Officer Hanson, we've heard your version of what happened that night, but I'm not sure you've gotten your facts straight. Isn't it true that you came back to my apartment that night and willingly had sex with me?"

"No, it isn't."

"Which part? Being in my apartment or the sex?" asked Eckert.

"Both."

"Really? Because the evidence presented by the _prosecution_ says otherwise. They found proof that you had been there. And that you had sex…well, at the minimum you had an orgasm, because your semen was on my bed sheet. How do you explain that?"

_Felt good, didn't it, blowing your wad with my dick up your scrawny ass?_

"I can't. I was never there."

"Objection," said Hayden. "The defendant will get to tell his story later…_under oath_. He's trying to get this witness to tell it for him now."

"Your Honor," Defense Attorney Rosa Sheffield spoke up. "We won't have the opportunity to get this witness' testimony _about_ the defendant's side later." She looked at Hayden. "Unless, of course, the prosecution is prepared to have us recall this witness as we see fit."

"Counsel?" The judge looked at Hayden.

Hayden cursed under his breath, then replied, "Objection withdrawn, Your Honor."

"Just the same, Mr. Eckert, you're treading on shaky ground with this line of questioning."

"Yes, Your Honor," said Eckert, and then he turned back to Tom. "But you were in my old apartment. You admit that?"

"Yes," said Tom. "I was working undercover. It was my job to be there."

"Was it part of your job to come see me in prison later? Or was that because you realized that you actually had feelings for me?" asked Eckert.

"What?!" Tom nearly laughed. "No." he shook his head. "I had feelings for the girl you knocked up and for the baby you left behind. I felt sorry for _them_."

Eckert smirked at that. "Regardless, during the time you were 'undercover', did you ever spend the night at my apartment?"

"Of course, but it wasn't…"

"Did you ever use drugs there?"

"No. I didn't use drugs," Tom said. "I went on some bogus buys though to make you _think_ I was using."

"Really? That's all?" Eckert said. "You never smoked any pot?"

Tom started to answer, then hesitated. He saw a look of satisfaction cross Eckert's face. _Aw hell._ "Um…yeah. Yeah, one time."

"The whole evening, right?" asked Eckert. "And then if I remember correctly…and please, if I'm wrong, let me know…you spent the rest of the night in bed with a friend of the girl that I 'knocked up'…as you put it. Is that right?"

Tom remembered that night. He was well into the assignment, far enough in so that his two worlds were blurring together. That made for a good investigation, but it didn't make for a good cop. He'd had some alcohol…too much alcohol…and the pot was there, the women were there, and things just happened. She was older than her friend, though. She had come around the place a few times, always flirting with Tom. But soon after that night he had broken the case, and he never saw her again. He knew there was no point in trying to explain all of this, and the truth was that he knew what he had done wasn't right. So he simply answered, "Yes. That's right."

Eckert smiled smugly. "Okay, so you admit to being in my apartment, doing drugs, and having sex with a girl, but you say you were never there with _me_ to have sex."

"That's right."

"Again, Officer Hanson," said Eckert. "The prosecution's own evidence clearly says that we _did_ have sex. Your semen was on a sheet in my apartment. _My_ semen was found inside of you." He laughed. "Unless there was some kind of forensic magic going on, the evidence proves that we had sex."

"We did not. You raped me," said Tom breathing heavily and doing his best to control his emotions.

"Look, I know you're embarrassed. It had been a long time, you weren't really prepared…" Eckert laughed. "I mean, even _I_ didn't want to do it without a condom."

"Shut up," Tom said, quietly and evenly.

"Objection," said Hayden.

But Eckert continued, standing in front of the witness stand and looking directly at Tom. "And you were in such a hurry. No lubrication…it really hurt, didn't it? The doctor even testified to how much damage it caused."

"Shut up!" Tom said again, this time more forcefully.

"Your Honor!" yelled Hayden, standing.

"It couldn't have bothered you too much though," said Eckert. "You had an orgasm, didn't you? I _know_ you were screaming and _your_ semen was all over the evidence. You came, Officer Hanson…you came while we were having consensual sex."

"We did _not_ have sex!" Tom shouted.

Eckert nodded. "Yes…we did…and you came because you liked it."

"No!"

"Objection, Your Honor!" Hayden yelled again.

"We did," said Eckert again, "and now you're trying to put me in jail for it."

"You _raped_ me!" Tom exploded, throwing his arm out and nearly touching the man as he pointed at him. "You lousy motherfucking son of a bitch!" Tom was standing now as the judge pounded his gavel calling for order. Eckert was walking back to the defense table as court officers approached the stand. Tom continued to shout after Eckert, barely coherent as he choked up and tears fell. "You _raped_ me! You kidnapped me, tied me up, beat me, and you _raped_ me!"

"Officer Hanson, sit down!" said the judge. "Order! There will be order in this court! Counsel, get your witness under control before I hold you both in contempt! Jury is dismissed. We will reconvene in one hour."

The jury was quickly ushered out of the room, and Sheffield and Eckert left as well. Most of the people in the gallery stood and watched as several people gathered around Tom, trying to quiet him and get him off the stand. Hayden and Hirsch were there, Tom's mother standing nearby, weeping with fear and concern.

Hayden pulled Tom out of the witness box, the young man still shouting at Eckert even though the defense was gone. The group of concerned people surrounded Tom, and he sank to the floor among them, gasping and crying hysterically. Dr. Hirsch grabbed his arms and shook him, trying to get his attention. "Tom! Tom, look at me!"

"He raped me…" Tom said again through his tears, still not seeing the doctor or anyone else around him.

Hirsch shook him again and put one hand behind Tom's head, forcing him to look at him.

Tom looked at the doctor and quieted down some but was still breathing hard. "He raped me," he said again, this time quietly, a look of despair on his tearful face.

Hirsch nodded and spoke softly. "I know. I know he did."

Tom looked at Hirsch for a moment more and then suddenly threw his arms around him, clutching the man tightly and mumbling weakly, "He raped me."

Hirsch sighed as he held the distraught young man, rubbing his back with one hand. "I know…I know."

* * *

**First off, I am so, so sorry this update has been so long in coming! I can only blame the holidays and an overload of things keeping me too busy during my normal writing times. But I really appreciate you waiting patiently for it, and I hope you enjoy it. Please keep the feedback coming. It's very helpful and much appreciated! :-)**


	26. Chapter 26

_Tom looked at Hirsch for a moment more and then suddenly threw his arms around him, clutching the man tightly and mumbling weakly, "He raped me."_

_Hirsch sighed as he held the distraught young man, rubbing his back with one hand. "I know…I know."_

Court officers cleared the spectators from the room as the small group of Tom's friends and family continued to surround him. Dr. Hirsch spoke gently to him as he broke the embrace and tried to look him in the eyes. He spoke as though they were the only two people in the room. "Come on…let's get out of here, okay? Come on." The doctor stood up, keeping his hands on Tom's shoulders so as not to break the human contact that he knew the young man desperately needed right then. He slid one hand down and took hold of Tom's arm, helping him to his feet. He then put his arm around him and left for the conference room with the others following close behind.

"Mr. Hayden!"

D.A. Scott Hayden stopped and turned to face the judge who was calling his name. "Your Honor?"

"In my chambers, please."

* * *

Hayden was not surprised to see that Defense Attorney Rosa Sheffield was already in the office. He did not bother with a greeting before he sat down.

"Scott, your witness is becoming increasingly unstable and disruptive," said Judge Andrews.

"With all due respect, sir," said Hayden evenly, "don't make this about him or try to blame him for it."

"I'm not blaming anyone, Counsel," answered the judge. "I'm concerned about his well-being first and foremost, but I'm also concerned about the effect on the case and the jury. Emotional displays like this could sway them one way or the other."

"Your Honor," Sheffield spoke up, "the defense is not worried about that."

"Of course you're not!" Hayden addressed her harshly. "You knew _exactly_ how he would react! You planned it this way!"

Sheffield smiled sweetly at him. "I'm sorry your witness got upset, Scott, but Mr. Eckert had the right to question him about those things."

"I don't understand how you can defend that guy! You _know_ he's lying about this!"

"I know nothing of the sort, Scott," she replied calmly. "You know full well I'm legally bound to report any evidence we have, whether it supports your side _or_ my side. Just face it…the _evidence_ says your witness is lying."

"He's the _victim_ here, Rosa! And that's my point…"

"The _point_ is…" interrupted Judge Andrews, "that we need to continue this trial in a civil manner. Ms. Sheffield, does the defense have any more questions for this witness?"

"No, Your Honor," she replied.

"Scott, I assume you want to re-direct?"

"Absolutely," answered Hayden, his arms crossed.

"Will we need to break for the day?"

Hayden shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "No, we're finishing this up this afternoon."

"Are you sure?" asked the judge. "It's already after 3:00."

"I'm sure. This ends today. It's done. We've put him through enough. We need to finish it."

* * *

Hayden knocked on the door to the conference room and then opened it a bit, peering inside. Tom sat at the table, Dr. Hirsch next to him, both of them silent. The doctor looked up at Hayden and shook his head slightly. The D.A. entered the room and sat across from the two men. He looked at Hirsch questioningly and the doctor nodded, so he spoke. "How are we doing here? Tom? Are you okay?"

Tom did not look up but shrugged his shoulders, a visible shudder running through him.

Dr. Hirsch put his hand on Tom's shoulder and asked Hayden, "When are we due back in court?"

The D.A. looked at his watch and answered, "In about twenty minutes."

At that, Tom looked up, eyes still teary and red.

"Twenty minutes?" asked Hirsch. "Scott, are you sure…"

"Yes," said Hayden. "We need to finish this. Tom?" He looked at the young man.

Tom let out a shaky sigh.

"He's done, okay? It's just you and me this afternoon, okay? And then you're done…it's over. Okay?"

Tom looked at him apprehensively, clasping his shaking hands in front of him on the table. He turned to give Dr. Hirsch a questioning look. The doctor nodded at him, and Tom turned back to Hayden, swallowed hard, and said quietly, "Okay."

The D.A. nodded. "Okay…okay, good. I'm just going to go over a few things that we need to clear up, and then you're done."

Tom nodded again, biting his lip.

Hayden continued, "I'm sorry for this, Tom…all of it…I really am."

Tom did not respond, but lowered his eyes.

Hayden sighed. "I guess we'd better get going then."

* * *

Tom sat once again on the witness stand. Hayden stood and approached. Despite all instructions to the contrary, Tom shifted his gaze to the defense table. Both Lee Eckert and his attorney, Rosa Sheffield, said contentedly, looking straight ahead. But as Tom stared, Eckert's eyes slowly moved to meet Tom's, and a slight smile appeared on the ex-con's lips. Tom held the man's look for a moment before turning his attention to the D.A.

"Officer Hanson," Hayden began, "In your testimony you stated that you had never been to Lee Eckert's apartment, yet when questioned by the defense it sounded as though you _had_ been there. Can you please explain that to the court?"

Tom took a deep breath. _Just_ _finish this…just finish it._ "I've never been in his current apartment…the one they found the sheet in. I don't know how it got there, but I've never been there for _anything_…for any reason."

"But you've been in his old apartment?" asked the D.A.

"Yes…while I was undercover. I had to go there. That was part of it…hanging out with him. But I never…" He looked up at Hayden and shook his head. "I never…did anything…with him."

"You mean you never had sex with him? Even while you were undercover?"

"No," said Tom, shaking his head again. "God, no. Never."

"And not on the night in question? At his current apartment?"

"Never," Tom repeated.

"When Mr. Eckert was questioning you, you admitted to having smoked marijuana in his old apartment and also having sex with a female there. Can you explain that?" asked Hayden.

"We were just…it just happened. We were drinking, and…I always bought the stuff, but…he never saw me use. He kept pushing me, and he was getting suspicious. So I…I smoked some pot. And the girl…she was always hanging around, and we…it just happened. It was wrong, but…at the time…it was just part of the job, you know?"

"You also testified in answer to the defense about a visit you made to Mr. Eckert while he was incarcerated. You said that this visit was not official business. Would you please tell us why you went to see him?"

"There was a girl…she hung out with us and stuff while I was undercover. He got her pregnant. She had the baby after he went to prison. She called me…I'd given her my number because…well…she never really got into any trouble, and she was all alone…I just told her if she ever needed anything…any help…she could call me."

"And she did?" asked Hayden.

"Yeah," replied Tom. "Yeah…just this one time though. She wanted to see him…in prison…show him the baby and stuff, but he wouldn't see her. But he told her…he said…if I came…he'd see me. She wanted me to take him some pictures of the kid."

"So you did?"

"Yeah…I did…I shouldn't have."

Hayden asked, "Why? What happened?"

Tom looked down at his hands and shook his head. "I just felt sorry for her. So I went. I was just gonna drop the pictures off, but they said he wouldn't take them unless I gave them to him. So I saw him. But he didn't want them. He just started screaming and cursing at me, and…I left." He shrugged.

"Did he say anything to you?"

"He was just yelling about me ratting him out and how he'd kill me if he got the chance."

"Was this the first time he'd threatened you?"

"No," said Tom. "In court…at his first trial…he did it there too."

"Did you see him any more after this visit?" asked the D.A.

"No…not until the…that night."

Hayden looked at him. "The night you were attacked?"

"Yeah," Tom said softly.

"Okay, I just have one more question for you, Officer Hanson. At their questioning, you told the defense that you had not wanted Mr. Eckert prosecuted for this. Why is that?"

Tom looked down at his hands again, trying to steady them as they began to shake.

"Officer Hanson?" prodded Hayden.

Tom raised his head and looked at the man, then scanned the room. Everyone had their eyes on him, waiting silently. He looked at the jury and then at the defense table. In the gallery he saw Dr. Hirsch sitting next to Detective Michaels who had come for the day. He saw Captain Fuller. And Doug. And between them sat his mother, her eyes watching him sadly. Tom turned his attention back to the D.A. and broke the silence. "This. This is why."

Hayden waited a moment and then asked, "What do you mean, Tom?"

"I…I mean…this. This whole thing. The questions. The answers. The pictures. The whole thing." He tried to keep from crying, but one tear spilled over, running slowly down his cheek. "I…my friends are here…my co-workers…I didn't want them to _hear_ all of this. And…my mother…" He sought her out in the crowd again, still watching him and now wiping her own tears away. "I didn't want her to have to go through this."

Hayden let Tom's words hang in the air briefly, waiting for them to sink into those who were watching and listening, before he spoke. "Tom, is Lee Eckert the man who kidnapped, beat, _and_ raped you that night?"

Tom looked over at the defense table again, but this time Eckert did not look back. "Yes. He is."

* * *

"You don't have to do this, you know."

"I know," Tom answered his mother as he looked into the mirror, straightening his tie.

"He's not going to say anything you want to hear."

Tom finished adjusting his tie, smoothed it down with his hand, and then turned to look at her. "Yes, he is, Mom. I want to hear his story. I want to hear what he's been telling people about…us…about me. I need to know." He turned and headed for the front door, his mother following behind closely.

"But…are you sure? I just don't want to see you hurt anymore."

Tom stopped at the door and smiled at her. "I'm okay, Mom." She gave him an unconvinced look. "Really…I am." He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, then asked, "Are you coming?"

It had been a long weekend with court closed on Monday. Thankfully for Tom, his testimony had ended the session on Friday, leaving him three days to prepare for hearing Eckert's testimony. He had spent most of that time with Dr. Hirsch, talking and crying for hours while the doctor listened. He had finally agreed to some medication to help him sleep, and although he was quickly tiring of the ups and downs of the trial, he felt ready to face things again come Tuesday morning.

Margaret started at his smiling, expectant face for a moment and then could not stop her own smile from appearing. Despite her lingering concern, it felt good to see a genuine smile on his face. She grabbed her keys and purse. "Let's go."

* * *

**Kind of short, I know. Sorry about that. Would you guys rather wait for a longer chapter or have more frequent shorter chapters? Either way, thanks for reading and especially reviewing. :-) Makes me motivated when I know someone is out there.**


	27. Chapter 27

_It had been a long weekend with court closed on Monday. Thankfully for Tom, his testimony had ended the session on Friday, leaving him three days to prepare for hearing Eckert's testimony. He had spent most of that time with Dr. Hirsch, talking and crying for hours while the doctor listened. He had finally agreed to some medication to help him sleep, and although he was quickly tiring of the ups and downs of the trial, he felt ready to face things again come Tuesday morning._

_Margaret started at his smiling, expectant face for a moment and then could not stop her own smile from appearing. Despite her lingering concern, it felt good to see a genuine smile on his face. She grabbed her keys and purse. "Let's go."_

Tom took a seat between his mother and Doug in the courtroom gallery and watched as Lee Eckert took the stand. The man looked even more put together than he had so far during the trial. He was wearing dark dress pants, a white button down shirt, and a tie. He was clean shaven, his hair neatly combed. Tom could almost smell the cheap cologne he imagined Eckert must have doused himself in, and he gagged a little at the thought.

After Eckert was sworn in, his attorney, Rosa Sheffield, began her questioning. "Mr. Eckert, please tell the court how you know the alleged victim, Tom Hanson."

"I met him about a year and a half ago at a bar near my old place on Tager Street…McGill's. We shot a few games of pool…had a few drinks. He sold me some stuff…I was into drugs then…I'm not going to lie to you…I was messed up. I kinda thought…you know…maybe he was a cop. But then he didn't try to buy…he just sold, so…you know…I thought he was okay."

"So you started hanging out with him?" asked Sheffield.

"Yeah…he hung around at my place a lot. Sometimes he was there for a few days at a time," Eckert answered.

"So he had gained your trust?"

"Oh yeah…he was cool. We got really close."

"How long was it before he revealed that he was a cop working undercover?" Sheffield approached the stand and looked at the witness.

"A couple of months," said Eckert.

"After he had obtained the information he wanted from you?"

"Yes."

"So before that, Mr. Eckert, while he was still, for all you knew, just another drug dealer…how would you describe your relationship?"

Eckert lowered his head for a moment, then looked up, but not at his attorney. From his seat in the witness box he had a line of view that put Tom directly in sight, and it was the officer on which his gaze now fell.

Tom stared back at him, locking eyes with the ex-con. Eckert tried to keep a plaintive look on his face for the jury, but as Tom's eyes narrowed, refusing to turn away, Eckert's expression hardened and he quickly turned away.

Eckert shook his head and cleared his throat. "We…uh…we sort of had a thing going."

"What kind of thing?" asked Sheffield.

"You know…I don't know…thinking about it now…maybe it was part of his plan…to trick me, you know? I mean, he was lying to me about a lot of stuff…who he was and everything. But…I don't know…this sure seemed real."

"What did?"

Eckert looked up at the woman. "He was always…you know…coming on to me."

Hearing that, Tom clenched his teeth, but remained quiet, resolved to hearing the rest of the man's story.

"He'd wait until we were at my place…alone," Eckert continued, "and then he'd always wanna sit by me…like on the couch or whatever. And then he'd put his hand on my leg or something. I wasn't into that, but…what the hell? One night, I didn't stop him…just to see what would happen."

"And what happened, Mr. Eckert?" asked Sheffield.

Eckert hesitated, then replied, "I guess if I hadn't let him…it started this whole thing…maybe we wouldn't be here now."

"It's not your fault, Lee," said his attorney.

An audible groan and "Oh brother!" rose from the gallery, and Captain Fuller elbowed Doug hard from one side while on the other Tom lowered his head, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a smile. A wave of murmurs ran through the crowd, and Judge Andrews pounded his gavel requesting order.

"Anyway," said Eckert, "one night, I didn't stop him. And he got on his knees in front of me and…undid my pant…and he gave me a blow job."

Any levity that had been present a moment ago in Tom's row in the gallery was shattered with those words.

Sheffield paced back and forth in front of the witness. "And then what?"

Eckert laughed a little. "Well, I'm not gonna lie…it felt pretty good. And he seemed to enjoy doing it. So I let him. Like I said, maybe it was all part of his lie, but…after a few times…I mean, he said we were good together and he wanted to be with me, and…I believed him. And so…after awhile, we…we went ahead and had sex."

"And this was his idea or yours?"

"His. Well…I mean…I went along with it, you know. I mean, it felt good and he seemed like he meant it…you know…about having feelings for me. So I let him, one night, get into bed with me." Eckert laughed again. "I'd never done that with a guy before, but even _I_ knew he wasn't doing it right. He was trying to…you know…be the aggressor…the 'man' I guess, but the next time we switched places, and that worked out better. He liked that…when I did it to him instead." Eckert shifted his gaze again to Tom who was looking right back at him, his face a myriad of expressions but his eyes steady and focused on the man.

"Okay, Mr. Eckert," said Sheffield, "so the two of you had a relationship, then you found out he was an undercover cop. You were arrested and went to prison. Did you have any contact with Officer Hanson while you were incarcerated?"

"Just once. He brought me those baby pictures. And he's right. I didn't want to see them. I wanted to see _him_. But he…he wouldn't even look at me." Eckert paused and lowered his head.

Tom watched him intently. _Oh_ _for Christ's sake…is he crying?_

"Mr. Eckert? Lee? Are you okay?" asked Sheffield.

He looked up. "Yeah…yeah. I'm fine. Anyway, he...uh…I realized he really was there for her, not to see me, and…yeah, I got upset. I yelled at him and I cursed at him…because he lied to me. I didn't give a…I mean, I didn't care about the arrest. I know…that was his job. But…I thought there was more to it than that. I guess I was wrong. But I didn't think…he shouldn't have done that. He shouldn't have used me like that just for his own needs and then act like it meant nothing to him." Eckert lowered his head again.

"So what you're saying is," said Sheffield as she looked around the courtroom, "that he was using his official position as a police officer…using the assignment…to use _you_ for his sexual needs. Is that correct?"

"That's what I think…how I felt, at least, after it was over."

"And that upset you?"

"Well, yeah," answered Eckert. "I mean, at first it was just for kicks, but then…I thought maybe it meant something more."

"All right, Mr. Eckert, so then you were released early from prison after serving just thirteen months of your sentence. Why is that?" asked Sheffield.

"My conviction was overturned because the police coerced me into confessing."

"Objection!" shouted D.A. Scott Hayden. "No evidence has been presented to support that claim."

"Overruled," said the judge. "The fact that the judge signed the order to overturn is considered sufficient evidence. Proceed, Ms. Sheffield."

"Thank you, Your Honor," she said, then turned back to the witness. "Mr. Eckert, tell us what happened on the night in question. How did you come to see Officer Hanson that night?"

"I just wanted to talk, you know? Tell him there were no hard feelings about everything. I was planning to start over…stay clean…thought maybe he could help me out with that…we could still be friends. So I went over to his place…saw him get out of the car, and waited. I knew that guy he was with…he didn't like me. So I just waited until he left before I came out to talk."

"And then what happened?"

Eckert took a deep breath before responding. "Well, he didn't want to go upstairs or stay out front. I guess he was afraid someone would see him with me. So we went to my place. We got there and we talked about a lot of stuff. He seemed cool. He said he was sorry about busting me…how once he got to know me he didn't want to do it, but he had to. So he was glad I got out."

Tom listened to Eckert's story with a mix of emotions. He was sickened at what the man was saying, and even worse he was afraid that it sounded believable. And he was furious that the system let a man like Eckert sit up there on the witness stand and flat out lie about everything. It wasn't right, but Eckert had nothing to lose. A perjury charge would mean nothing to him.

"What happened at your apartment, Mr. Eckert?" asked Sheffield.

"After we talked, he came on to me. I told him I wasn't ready for that…that we should take it slow….but he kept on touching me and stuff, and …well, I gave in."

"You had sex with him?"

"Yeah. I shouldn't have, I know. I feel bad about it. I wasn't trying to lead him on or anything, but…you know…it felt good…it had been awhile…so…I figured why not?"

His attorney looked at him. "And this was entirely consensual? On both parts?"

"Yes, it was."

"Earlier, the prosecution presented Dr. Phillip Marcus who testified that Officer Hanson's injuries were consistent with those that might have been caused by rough consensual sex…" Sheffield began before she was interrupted by the D.A.

"Objection! The doctor also testified that the injuries were consistent with those of sexual assault victims."

"Sustained," said Judge Andrews. "The jury is instructed to consider that testimony as well. Go on, Ms. Sheffield."

"Mr. Eckert," the defense attorney continued, "was your sexual encounter with Officer Hanson that night what you would call 'rough'?"

Tom was starting to feel ill, and his resolve was weakening at this line of questioning. He only hoped that no one was believing the story that Eckert was weaving. He looked at his watch and saw that it was nearly lunchtime. _Just hang on…a little longer…just hang on._

Eckert hesitated before answering. "Um…yeah. Yeah, I would say so. I mean…he likes it that way. I do too, I guess…sometimes. So yeah…there was a lot of blood and stuff."

"Which the CSIs found on the sheet in your apartment. Was Officer Hanson upset or did he resist it?"

"No. He only got upset afterward when I said I wanted to take it slow…I wasn't ready to get into something yet."

"And how did he react?" asked Sheffield.

"He got really mad…we argued and then he left. I offered to drive him home, but he just left," said Eckert.

"And what time was that?"

"Around 2:30 in the morning," answered Eckert.

"Did you see him any more after that?"

"No, not until the trial started."

"And do you have any idea how he got hurt? Or who took him out to Lotus Park and attacked him?" asked Sheffield.

"No, I don't," said Eckert.

Sheffield nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Eckert. I have no further questions."

Judge Andrews thanked her and announced, "Court will adjourn for lunch and reconvene at 1:00."

* * *

**Oh, I can see the light (or dark!) at the end of the tunnel! It won't be long before this ends, but I have an idea for another story, so never fear! LOL! As for this one, thank you, as always for reading and reviewing. I like knowing you're out there. :-) **


	28. Chapter 28

_Sheffield nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Eckert. I have no further questions."_

_Judge Andrews thanked her and announced, "Court will adjourn for lunch and reconvene at 1:00."_

"What do you think, man?"

"About what?" Tom responded with a mouthful of french fries. He looked across the table at Doug who had talked him into getting out of the courthouse for lunch. Tom's mother had elected to stay behind, buying a sandwich and reading a book at the small shop there. Tom knew it wasn't by accident…that his mother knew that as much as he loved and appreciated her, that he needed a break and a little time away from her.

"Duh," said Doug. "The trial, man! How do you think it's going?"

"Duh!" Tom shot right back. "It's going like shit, Doug, what do _you_ think?"

"You think it's that bad?"

"Yeah…I do," said Tom before sucking on his straw, making a loud, slurping noise. "You heard that crap he was saying in there. They're gonna let him off on this."

"Nah, man, they won't," said Doug, shaking his head.

Tom just shrugged in response.

"What'll…I mean…if they do…what then?" Doug asked.

"I don't know," Tom responded simply. "It doesn't matter, I guess. I never really thought…the whole time I never thought…I just knew he'd get away with it."

"You're okay with that?"

"Of course not. I just accept it. Everything I have to deal with…this is just another part of it." Tom looked at Doug and said nothing more.

Doug contemplated his friend's words with a sadness he hadn't felt since the day he'd found his partner lying bleeding and broken in the park. The only thing since then that had kept him going and kept his spirits up was the thought of capturing Eckert and making him pay for what he'd done. He wasn't going to give up on that, even if Tom had. "Well…we'll see," was all he could come up with as a response.

"Yeah, we will," said Tom. "How's things at work?"

Doug rolled his eyes. "Nice transition."

Tom smiled. "I thought so."

"Well, gee, things are work are just great!" said Doug, feigning over-excitement before he got serious again. He looked down at the napkin he was twisting in his hands. "Things suck. I miss you."

Tom paused and then said, "Yeah…I know…I miss you too. I'm just ready, you know? I want to get back to work and start doing stuff again…normal stuff…put this behind me. He sighed and looked at his watch. They still had a few minutes, so he spoke again. "So…uh…" He looked down at his empty plate and picked up his fork, using it to stir the leftover ketchup, making swirl designs on the plate. "What's it gonna be like when I get there? What are people saying?" he asked quietly.

Doug looked up. "It'll be okay. Really. Everybody's been as pissed about all this as the rest of us. They want to see you back."

"Really? 'Cause I don't know if…I mean…it's gonna be hard enough, you know?" said Tom, continuing to stare at his plate. "If they think…or if someone says something…"

"They won't. Believe me. No one's going to make a big deal out of it or hassle you or anything. Really. I promise."

Tom nodded in response, not entirely convinced. He looked back up. "I guess we'd better be getting back."

* * *

"Mr. Eckert," said D.A. Scott Hayden, beginning his cross-examination of the defendant, "you and Officer Hanson each told very different accounts of what happened the night he was attacked. Your attorney, when cross-examining Officer Hanson, brought up several times that there was no evidence to support his claims. Are you aware of any evidence to support _your_ claims?"

Lee Eckert leaned forward in the witness box, close to the microphone, and answered, "No, sir, I'm not."

"Then why should we believe your word over that of the victim?"

Eckert looked momentarily confused, then said, "Well, as I understand it, sir, I don't _have_ to prove anything here. _You_ do." There was no hint of the arrogance he had displayed when being interrogated after his arrest, and yet to those in the room who knew better, it was clearly there.

Hayden was caught off guard by the ex-con's answer but quickly recovered enough to counter with, "That's true, Mr. Eckert, so let me do just that. Are there any witnesses to this alleged relationship you say you had with Officer Hanson?"

"Mmmm…no, I guess not. He wanted to keep it secret. I didn't understand it then, but now that I know he's a cop and was on duty…now it makes sense. He probably could have gotten in a lot of trouble for that, right?"

Ignoring the implied question, Hayden asked, "What about after you got out of prison? That night…did anybody see the two of you talking on the street or going into your apartment?"

"Not that I know of," said Eckert.

"Really? That's odd, because I've been to your apartment, Mr. Eckert. There are a lot of people in that building, coming and going at all hours of the day and night. And you passed _no_ _one_ on your way in with Officer Hanson that night? No one who can verify that the two or you were really there?"

Eckert shrugged. "I don't remember seeing anyone."

Hayden nodded and began to pace back and forth. He hadn't wanted to cross-examine Eckert at all, but he knew if he didn't ask him _anything_ the jury might see it as validation of his story. He couldn't ask any questions about Marvin Kern or Marty Walsh, the two thugs who had helped Eckert, because everything they admitted was now considered hearsay without their testimony. And even the things Eckert said as he was being arrested and interrogated wouldn't help. The son of a bitch had been extremely careful about not saying anything incriminating, and everything he _did_ say was consistent with his testimony. Hayden stopped pacing and addressed the judge. "No further questions, Your Honor."

"Ms. Sheffield?" Judge Andrews said, looking at the defense attorney.

"I have no questions for redirect, Your Honor, and we are ready to rest our case," she answered.

"The witness may step down," directed the judge. "Is the defense prepared for closing arguments?"

"Yes, Your Honor, we're ready," Sheffield replied.

"And you, Mr. Hayden?"

"Yes, Your Honor," he answered.

"Court will adjourn then for thirty minutes for preparation."

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," Scott Hayden began, "I appreciate the time you've taken to sit through this trial and listen to all of the testimony and evidence. I know it's been difficult to hear some of these things, but I hope that you will devote the same time and attention to considering your verdict. You heard two very different versions of what happened that night, but one thing is clear and cannot be disputed. Officer Tom Hanson was viciously and brutally attacked in a cowardly act of senseless violence.

The defense would have you believe that this police officer was having some sort of an affair with a convicted murderer, went to his apartment to have sex, and then left in the middle of the night and just happened to be attacked by someone else. There is no evidence to support this claim. There is no reason to doubt the word of this young police officer. He has no reason to lie. The defense says that he made up the story of Lee Eckert raping and assaulting him in order to cover up a secret homosexual affair. I ask you, just _when_ did he decide to 'make up' this story?" Hayden looked up and down the row of jurors as he paused for effect. "As he was being beaten severely enough to cause a concussion, fractured skull, bruised kidneys, broken ribs, broken nose, and a ruptured spleen? Or after that, while he was going in and out of consciousness as he lay bound and gagged behind a garbage dumpster? Or perhaps he was lucid enough to concoct such a story as he was recovering from surgery, heavily sedated and unaware of anything that was happening around him. No, ladies and gentlemen, he made up no such story." Hayden's eyes roamed those staring back at him, stopping for a moment to look into each pair. "He spoke the truth. As difficult as it was for him to describe what happened to him, he bravely did it. And as difficult as it was for him to come into this courtroom…to describe in detail what happened to him…in front of his family, his coworkers, complete strangers, and even the man who attacked him…he did it, because he doesn't want what happened to him to happen to anyone else. And if you let this man go, he _will_ continue down this path of violence and there _will_ be other victims. Please don't let that happen. And please don't let him go unpunished for what he's already done. Put him away for the immeasurable suffering he's caused and keep it from happening to anyone else. Thank you."

"Ms. Sheffield," said Judge Andrews, "you may begin."

"Thank you, Your Honor," she said as she stood. She approached the jury box and walked the length of it and back again, making eye contact with each juror. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the prosecution is right about one thing. You did hear two very different versions of events. And you might be tempted, for one reason or another, to believe one story over the other. But the question here is _not_ which story you believe. The question is did the prosecution _prove_ to you that Officer Hanson's story is true? Did they _prove_ that Lee Eckert committed this crime? And ladies and gentlemen, they most certainly did not. _No_ evidence was presented to prove _any_ of the claims made by the officer. In fact, the only hard evidence presented seemed to verify the defendant's story. There was a sheet in the laundry hamper at his house, which Officer Hanson claims to have never been to, stained with the officer's blood and semen along with Mr. Eckert's semen. Officer Hanson _admits_ to conduct unbecoming an officer while he was undercover investigating Mr. Eckert, including doing drugs and having sex with a young woman at Mr. Eckert's apartment. And Officer Hanson _admits_ going to see Mr. Eckert in prison…whether it was simply to take him some photographs of his child or just to see Mr. Eckert is irrelevant. The fact is that Officer Hanson cared enough about Mr. Eckert to go see him."

Sheffield paused and approached the defense table to take a drink from her bottle of water. She lingered there a moment, letting the jury consider her words before returning to the jury box. "And then you have Lee Eckert, newly released from prison and on parole. Do you _really_ think, ladies and gentlemen, that the first thing he would do is commit a crime that could get him put back in prison for life?" She laughed a little. "Now, I'll admit, Lee Eckert might not be the smartest man around, but wouldn't that be an incredibly stupid thing to do? And a crime against a police officer who _knows_ him? Not likely. Not even for the dimmest bulb in the room.

But let's assume he did commit this crime. Then what? Well, he would go into hiding, wouldn't he? He would leave town, change his name, lay low. Right? But do you know what Lee Eckert was doing after this crime occurred? He was living in his apartment under his own name, going out around the neighborhood. He even opened a bank account under his own name. Does that sound like someone trying to hide from the police? And when the police came to Mr. Eckert's apartment…twice…to arrest him…he offered no resistance. He was sitting in the living room in plain sight and went with them willingly.

Ladies and gentlemen, Lee Eckert wasn't hiding because he had nothing to hide. He had committed no crime. He has no reason to lie to you about the sexual encounter he had with Tom Hanson that night. Only Officer Hanson has a reason to lie. To cover up his homosexuality and his inappropriate conduct with a suspect. His own partner even testified that homosexuals in the police department are discriminated against.

Again, ladies and gentlemen, remember that the defense is under no obligation to prove Mr. Eckert innocent. The _prosecution_ must prove…beyond a shadow of a doubt…that he is guilty. And they have not done that. Mr. Eckert is not perfect. He's done his share of crimes. But he is not guilty of this. Please do not send this man back to prison just to satisfy some personal vendetta that Officer Hanson or the police department may have against him. Thank you."

"Thank you, Ms. Sheffield," said the judge. "The jury has been instructed on what to consider when deliberating their decision. Court will adjourn until a verdict is reached."

As the spectators filed out of the courtroom, Hayden approached Tom and the others sitting with him. "Well, we've done all we can do. Now we wait."

The group was somber, and no one spoke until Tom stood up and shook the D.A.'s hand. "Thanks, Scott. I appreciate everything you've done."

Hayden nodded. "You're welcome." _I hope it was enough_, he added silently. "We'll call you when the verdict is in."

* * *

A day and a half later, Doug rang the doorbell at Margaret Hanson's house. She answered and gave him a surprised look.

"He's not here, Doug. I'm sorry…I thought he told you."

"Told me what? Where is he?" asked Doug.

The woman sighed, wiping her hands on her apron. "He moved back to his apartment…the night the case went to the jury. I tried to get him to at least wait until after the verdict, but he wanted to go. I haven't heard from him since."

"What…you mean…he doesn't answer the phone? Or…?"

"I haven't tried to call. Not yet. I wanted to give him a little space. But…"

"I'll go over there," said Doug. "And I'll call you."

Mrs. Hanson smiled, clearly relieved. "Thank you, Doug. For everything."

* * *

"Come on, man, I know you're in there," said Doug loudly as he pounded on Tom's door. "Your mom told me."

Silence.

"Don't _make_ me get the key off the top of the door and come in there and catch your ass coming out of the shower or something."

Silence.

"Okay, that's it. I'm coming in, but I'm covering my eyes 'cause I don't wanna…"

The door opened with a jerk. "Okay! Okay! Shut your trap and get in here," Tom said, opening the door all the way so Doug could come in.

Doug entered the apartment, not sure what to expect. He looked around and saw nothing out of the ordinary…no empty liquor bottles indicating his friend was trying to drown his sorrows. No darkness to indicate that he was sitting alone in a fit of deep depression. No gun lying on the table to indicate he was contemplating an end to it all. And quite frankly, it was the absence of these items that troubled Doug the most. What was his friend's presence of mind right now?

Tom followed Doug into the living room and stood with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, watching him. "Have a seat."

Doug looked back at him suspiciously. "What's going on?"

Tom looked confused. "Nothing. Why?" He sat down in a soft chair opposite the couch.

Doug sat on the couch and looked at Tom. "Call your mom, man."

"Huh?"

"She's worried. Call her," said Doug.

Tom sighed and nodded. "Yeah. Okay…I know. I will. I'm sorry."

"Don't tell _me_ you're sorry, tell her."

"Okay! Okay! I get it! I know! It's just…" Tom shook his head, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "I needed this, Doug. I really needed this time alone…away…from everything…and everyone." He looked at Doug, silently pleading with him to understand. "This is the first time I've been alone since…since it happened."

Doug started to object and then thought about it. Tom was right. First there was the hospital, then 24/7 at his mother's house, then doctors, psychologists, detectives, and court…every day sitting with the group, lunch with the group, then going home with his mother. Christ, it was a wonder he hadn't cracked before now. "I never even thought about that. You're right. I'm sorry. It must have been really hard. But…do you need anything? Or…"

"Nah, I went to the store yesterday. I'm okay." Tom smiled.

"But…well, are you sure you…I mean…did you sleep okay?"

Tom's smile faltered for a moment. No, he hadn't slept well. Not at all. Lights on, lights off. TV on, TV off. In bed, on the couch. And finally, a medication induced sleep that was more torture than lying awake, as his dreams thrust him into a world where he could not escape, where things occurred that were even worse than he had actually endured. No, he had not slept well. "Yeah," he said with a smile. "No problem."

Doug didn't buy that for a second, but he played along. "Good. Soooo…what's going on tonight? Want to get out? Catch the game over at the Brick House?"

Tom shook his head. "I don't think so."

"All right," said Doug, not deterred, "we're staying in then." He got up and went to the kitchen and poked his head into the refrigerator.

"Doug, come on. Really, I…"

Doug's head appeared over the refrigerator door. "I ain't leavin'. Now where's all this food you bought?"

The two friends spent the evening in front of the TV, using up just about all of the food and drink in the house and having a good time. But Tom was insistent that Doug leave before it got too late, even though he feigned being too tired to drive and wanting the couch for the night.

"I have to get used to this, Doug. I have to figure out how to handle it. I'll be fine. Go."

So Doug had left and Tom wandered the apartment, contemplating how he could try something different this night to sleep, when his cell phone rang. He answered, "Doug, go _home_! I told you…"

"Tom? It's Scott Hayden."

Tom stood frozen, the phone to his ear, and swallowed hard.

"The jury's back. Court meets at ten tomorrow morning."

* * *

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	29. Chapter 29

_Doug had left, and Tom wandered the apartment, contemplating how he could try something different this night to sleep, when his cell phone rang. He answered, "Doug, go home! I told you…"_

"_Tom? It's Scott Hayden."_

_Tom stood frozen, the phone to his ear, and swallowed hard._

"_The jury's back. Court meets at ten tomorrow morning."_

It was a long night. The knowledge that the verdict was in…that this would soon be over one way or another…did little to ease Tom's restless mind. In between waking from the dreams, he managed to get what he figured amounted to about 2 hours of sleep. He ate a small breakfast, afraid of both eating too little and too much, but living with his mother had turned the morning meal into a habit, and so he ate. As he grabbed his car keys on the way out the door, he was once again grateful that he had already moved back into his apartment. Whatever happened this morning, he knew he was going to want to retreat back home later to deal with it alone.

Tom took his seat in the courtroom just as he had every other day…between his mother and Doug. Captain Fuller sat on the other side of Doug. Dr. Hirsch had asked if Tom wanted him there for the verdict, but Tom had politely declined. He didn't know how he was going to react, but he knew one thing…he was going to stay in control of his emotions.

Tom watched as Lee Eckert was brought in. The man looked as calm and as sure of himself as he ever had. Judge Andrews asked the defendant to stand and then asked the jury if they had reached a verdict. The foreman answered that they had. Tom's mother reached over and took his hand.

"On the charge of kidnapping in the first degree, how do you find the defendant?" asked the judge.

The foreman replied, "Not guilty."

_How's that feel, you fucking nark?_

"On the charge of aggravated assault, how do you find the defendant?"

"Not guilty."

_Ain't that somethin'?! You fucked me; now I'm fucking you!_

"On the charge of aggravated sexual assault, how do you find the defendant?"

"Not guilty."

_You enjoyed that, didn't you, you little pervert?_

Judge Andrews thanked the jury for their service and then said, "Mr. Eckert, you are free to go. Court is dismissed."

Tom was reeling inside from the words that were spinning in his head and in his ears. His world quickly narrowed down to the spot on the floor in front of him. His eyes were focused on that spot, and everything else around him became nothing more than a dense fog. He did not hear the chorus of surprised "ooooo's" and disappointed "ohhhh's" that came from the crowd in the courtroom. He did not hear his mother's gasp or Doug's curse. He did not see Lee Eckert stand and hug his attorney, Rosa Sheffield, then make his way with her through the courtroom on their way outside to talk to the reporters gathered there. He did not feel Doug as he stood up and moved protectively between Tom and Eckert at the defendant went by, glancing over at the group with a smile and a small wave.

But as the courtroom cleared out, the fog began to lift and Tom realized his mother still had a hold on his hand and sat silently beside him. He could hear Doug and Fuller talking as they stood next to him, the captain's cell phone ringing incessantly as he refused to answer it. And he heard Scott Hayden's voice in front of him, apologizing.

Tom took a deep breath and shook his head a little. He swallowed hard, then turned to look at his mother. He put his arms around her and hugged her tightly, whispering in her ear, "It's okay…everything's okay." He let her go and stood up to face the D.A. Hayden had a devastated look on his face, and Tom saw tears in the man's eyes. Tom smiled at him. "You did your best. It's okay. I know you did everything you could. Thank you."

Hayden nodded appreciatively but didn't trust himself enough to be able to speak without losing it. He had become very emotionally invested in this case despite knowing how unprofessional it was. But he had really wanted to win this one. This case, more than any other he had ever prosecuted, represented for him a clear case of good versus evil, and the good guys had lost. _He_ had lost. But more importantly, Tom had lost. Hayden watched as Tom held his hand out, and as he went to shake it his eyes fell upon the jagged scar that encircled the young man's wrist. He grasped the hand and shook it, raising his eyes to meet Tom's and then uttering "I'm sorry" again before quickly turning away, busying himself by gathering his papers up as he tried to keep his composure.

Doug and Fuller now had their attention on Tom, telling him that they too were sorry. Doug looked toward the back of the room where Eckert had exited and said, "Don't worry…he'll get what's coming to him," and this time Fuller did not caution him about making public threats.

"It's okay, guys…really," said Tom. "It's what I expected. It's okay." The others looked at him doubtfully. "Really," he repeated. "Come on…let's go." He took his mother's hand and helped her to her feet before putting his arm around her and heading for the exit."

"Tom, you might want to…" he heard Hayden say.

"I'll do it," Fuller said as he moved past Tom and his mother.

"What?" asked Doug.

Hayden directed his attention back to his briefcase, moving papers here and there. "Reporters," he said quietly.

"Oh," said Doug. As they waited for Fuller to come back and let them know it was clear outside, Doug said to Tom, "So…uh…what are you gonna…I mean…are you just gonna go home?"

"Yeah," Tom answered. His mother gave him a look but said nothing. "I'll be okay."

"Maybe I can come by later?"

"Not today, Doug, okay?"

"Yeah…yeah, sure," said Doug.

An awkward silence ensued as they waited until Fuller finally came back announcing that it was clear for them to leave, but he still suggested that they use the side exit.

* * *

Margaret Hanson turned the hot water on as far as it would go to warm up her dishwater that had grown tepid. When the water was warm again, she turned off the faucet and pulled a plate from the sink, washing and then rinsing it before picking up a towel to dry it. But the dish slipped from her shaky hands, falling to the kitchen floor and breaking into four neat pieces. She stared at the broken plate for a moment before reaching into the sink and pulling out another one that she lifted slightly and then threw to the floor, watching it shatter on top of the first plate. She pulled out a third plate and threw it down as well before she leaned against the counter, her face in her hands, and began to cry.

* * *

D.A. Scott Hayden took a swig from the bottle of Scotch and then set it down on his desk next to the cardboard box he was slowly filling with papers. He picked up two more files and glanced at them briefly to make sure they belonged in the box and then set them inside. He needed to make sure, but he didn't want to actually have to look closely at them. He didn't need to. He knew what was in them. He picked up another pile of loose papers and files, shuffled through them, and put them in the box as well. He took another drink from the bottle and then put the lid on the box. He sealed the lid securely with clear packing tape, then sighed heavily before picking up a thick, black marker and writing a case number on the side of the box, then "State v. Eckert" in bold, block letters. He set the box in the corner for the courier to pick up and take to the warehouse and then returned to his desk and the bottle.

* * *

Doug Penhall threw his right fist out and felt it connect hard with his target. He landed another blow with his right before doing the same with his left. It wasn't enough. Overcome with rage, he began to punch furiously over and over again. He would not be satisfied until his opponent was lying pummeled to death on the ground, but the heavy punching bag still hung in front of him, swinging back and forth, taunting him. Breathing heavily, he pulled his right fist back again, this time throwing an uppercut followed by another with his left. The sweat flew off his face as he danced around the bag, assaulting it from every angle, but he simply couldn't do it enough damage. Once again he began to punch furiously, alternating lefts and rights until he finally fell against the bag, arms around it, exhausted. Defeated.

* * *

Captain Adam Fuller stood nodding in Detective Mark Michaels' office. "Yeah…yeah, I understand."

"I'm sorry, Adam," said the detective. "Believe me, I tried every angle and called in every favor I have, but there's no legal reason for us to put a tail on Eckert. He's clean right now, and up until…"

"I know," Fuller interrupted, "he hasn't made a single move or threat toward Hanson. So far."

Michaels sighed. "Look, maybe he's done. Maybe he got what he wanted. He's put that kid through hell and back a hundred different times and ways. And he got away with it. Anything beyond that…from now on…he knows he doesn't have a chance."

"Would that help you sleep at night if you were Hanson right now? With Eckert out there free and clear?"

"Nope." Michaels shook his head. "But he's going back to work soon, right? Maybe things will start to get better for him…more normal then, and he can start to put this behind him."

"Maybe," said Fuller. "Anyway, you're still going to…"

"Yes, we're still going to put a watch on his house…and his mom's…for awhile at least…and see how things go."

"Thank you, Mark."

* * *

Tom jumped as the phone rang. He laughed a little at himself. He wasn't nervous, he told himself. But the phone broke the silence he had been sitting in all afternoon. He was surprised, actually. He had expected everyone to be calling and checking on him, but so far this was the first call he had received. Curiosity got the best of him, and he answered the phone.

"Hi Tom. It's Dr. Hirsch."

"Hi," said Tom. "You heard?"

"Yeah, I did. How are you doing?"

"I'm okay."

"I'm not going to push you on that, Tom," said Hirsch, "but I do want to see you…either tonight or in the morning."

Tom hesitated. "I don't know…"

"If you say you're all right, then we'll wait until tomorrow, but we do need to talk, okay?"

Tom sighed but did not answer.

"You know you can't go back to work until you're cleared by me, right?" continued Hirsch. "And that's not happening until I see you again." When he got no answer, he asked, "Tom?"

"Yeah…yeah…okay. In the morning. What time?"

"10:00?"

"I'll see you then," said Tom.

After hanging up the phone, Tom wandered the apartment some more, wondering what to do. He tried to read, but couldn't concentrate. He tried listening to music, but it only irritated him. He couldn't for the life of him remember what he had ever spent time doing in this place before…just…before. He took one more phone call that evening, talking to Fuller about the watch that was going to be put into place. He also assured the captain that he was ready to come back to work and that he would be seeing the psychologist in the morning. After that, he settled into what had become his routine the past couple of days…trying to find a place and a way to sleep.

* * *

"How was your night?" asked Dr. Hirsch.

Tom looked at the man, knowing there was no sense in trying to fool him. "Crappy."

The doctor nodded. "I figured as much. You look like you haven't had any sleep. Do you need some medication?"

Tom shook his head.

"I think it might help you get some rest. How are you going to work if you can't sleep?"

"It…it just…I took some the other night, and…I went to sleep, but I still had the dreams. And then…I couldn't wake up. I couldn't get away." Tom looked down at his hands that were gripping his knees as he sat across from Hirsch.

"Okay…well, we can try something else. There are a lot of options. We'll find something that works for you." Hirsch studied the young man in front of him for a moment before saying, "Tom, I'm sorry. About the trial. It shouldn't have ended that way."

Tom nodded without looking up. "Yeah…but it did."

"How do you feel about it?"

Tom shrugged. "I just have to deal with it. Like everything else."

"Yes, I guess you do," said Hirsch. "But how does it make you _feel_?"

"How do you think?" Tom laughed a little. "It makes me mad. It makes me sick. It makes me…I just want to know…how does that happen? How do…I mean, I arrest people all the time…what's the point then if they just let them go again?"

"The perils of the system."

"Yeah, well…the system sucks. This guy…look what he did…to a _cop_…and he gets off like nothing happened. He sits up there and lies and I tell the truth and it doesn't matter."

"Tom, what happened…what they did…," said Hirsch. "It doesn't matter if they believed him. You know the truth, and so does everyone else who counts. It doesn't matter if they didn't believe you."

Tom sniffed and said something so quietly that the doctor had to ask him to repeat it. Tom looked up at him. "They believed me."

"What?"

"I saw them. On the news. They talked to some of the jury members, and they said…they said they believed me…there just wasn't any proof."

"Oh," said Hirsch. "Well…does that make it any easier for you to accept it?"

Tom shook his head. "It's worse. They believed everything I said this bastard did to me and they _still_ let him go. What the fuck kind of justice is that?!"

"Listen, Tom…"

Tom stood up and reached for his jacket. "Look…I uh…I gotta go."

"We aren't done, Tom," said Hirsch.

"Yeah…uh…I've got some things I need to get done today. I'll uh…I'll call you later, okay?"

The doctor watched as Tom left the office without waiting for an answer.

* * *

**I know! I know! Some of you want to kill me! I'm sorry, but it's the way it had to be...for now. Just trust me and hang in there, okay? I really, really appreciate everyone who is still reading and especially reviewing! It helps a lot to get feedback on how you're feeling about the story. So let me know what you think! And thanks again! :-)**


	30. Chapter 30

_Tom stood up and reached for his jacket. "Look…I uh…I gotta go."_

"_We aren't done, Tom," said Hirsch._

"_Yeah…uh…I've got some things I need to get done today. I'll uh…I'll call you later, okay?"_

_The doctor watched as Tom left the office without waiting for an answer._

_

* * *

_"It's been a month. Why not?"

Dr. Hirsch leaned forward in his chair and looked Tom in the eye. "Because you're not ready."

Tom was fuming…exasperated. "Look, I've been sitting behind a desk for four weeks now. Nothing's gone wrong. I haven't freaked out. I've been coming here every Tuesday like you said…what else do you want?! I don't know what else I can do to prove it to you. I'm ready to get back out in the field."

"You want me to let you go out…undercover…and pretend…play a part…try to fool someone…when you can't even get a good night's sleep?"

Tom looked down. "I told you," he said quietly, "I'm doing better. I'm sleeping."

"You're lying," said the doctor.

At the accusation, Tom's eyes shot up to look at the man. "I'm not lying. I mean…it's over. And he's not even around anymore. I heard…they said he moved out…he's living up in Myer now…two hundred miles away. Okay…so…yeah…some nights…I still have nightmares, but it won't interfere with my work."

The doctor looked unconvinced. "How can it _not_, Tom?"

Tom swallowed hard before asking, "Please? I need this. I do…I need some normalcy back in my life. I can't stand just sitting around watching everyone else do the real work. It makes me feel like…like…" He stopped and bowed his head.

"Like how?" asked Hirsch.

"Like…" Tom began, his voice breaking. He shook his head, refusing to look up as he continued, "…like I'm nothing anymore. Useless. Like he took away everything and there's nothing left of me." He was crying now as he put his face in his hands.

Dr. Hirsch leaned forward and put his hand on Tom's shoulder. "This…is why you're not ready."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Tom mumbled between sobs.

The doctor sat back in his chair. "It means that going out undercover again won't make you feel normal again. You have to resolve this and feel normal first _before_ you can go back into the field."

Tom collected himself, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve, and sighed, looking up. He shook his head. "I can't," he said simply. "This is killing me. It won't let go of me. Everything I do or say or that happens is tainted. _I'm_ tainted. I'm just…existing now. I'm not living."

"We'll get there, Tom. _You'll_ get there. In the meantime, you must see small glimpses of it coming back, don't you? Aren't there times when you're feeling good?"

"Yeah, and then…I remember."

"That's okay," said Hirsch. "It's coming back. And those times when you remember…they'll become fewer and fewer. Believe me, I've seen this a lot. It's what I do, Tom. This is how it works. And it _will_ get better."

Tom shook his head. "It's too hard. It…it scares me too much when it happens. And it pisses me off, and…I just feel like it's never going to change and what's the use in trying? Like, we…" He stopped short and shook his head again.

"We what?"

"Nothing."

"No, Tom, tell me what you were going to say," said the doctor.

"It's just…like…well, I tried, you know? Doug and I went out after work the other night, and…it just…"

"_She's looking at you, man." Doug grinned as he lifted his beer to his lips._

_Tom smiled a shy smile and looked down at the table. "Nah, she's looking at you. Go on…Sherri's been gone for a couple of months. What are you waiting for?"_

"_I'm waiting for a girl to look at my table…just __once__…when someone better looking than me isn't sitting here too!"_

_At that comment, Tom erupted in laughter. "Don't be an idiot. Get over there."_

_Doug took another look at the dark haired girl sitting at the bar with her back to them. She turned her head to look at them again, smiling as she swirled her finger in her drink. He sighed and shook his head. "No way. Outta my league. You go."_

_Tom looked at him. "Yeah?"_

"_Yeah. Go."_

_A slight cloud of doubt crossed Tom's mind, but he quickly pushed it away. He stood up and walked over to the bar, ordering another beer. While he waited for it, he sidled up to the dark haired girl. "Excuse me."_

_She turned to look at him. "Yes?"_

"_I…uh…couldn't help noticing that you were staring at my friend over there." Better safe than sorry._

"_Actually," she said with a smile, turning on her seat to face him. "I was staring at you."_

"_Oh, really?" Tom asked as he took his beer._

"_Really. My name's Lena."_

"_Tom," he said._

"_Have a seat, Tom."_

"What was making you nervous about that, Tom?" asked Hirsch.

"Nothing. Not yet. I mean, when I first started to go over there, I felt a little anxious. But…well…I brushed it off."

"So what happened?"

"We talked awhile. She was flirting with me pretty hard…leaning in and laughing a lot. She had this red dress on…man…" He shook his head. "It was nice…low cut…and she kept crossing her legs…pulling it up over her knees."

_He wanted to touch her. God…he wanted to touch her. But the stirring inside of him didn't feel right. He let her make the first move, laying her hand lightly on his arm as she leaned in close, laughing. He could smell her perfume then, slightly sweet but a bit musky. Her hand grazed his knee, and he felt himself getting aroused, but then she came closer, whispering something in his ear, and he gasped and pulled back._

_She looked shocked…wounded…and he quickly apologized, telling her it tickled. She laughed and said it was okay, and they both turned back toward the bar. But as they continued their conversation she put her hand on his and brought it down to lay on her thigh. He gasped again, this time from the feel of her soft flesh beneath his fingers. She left his hand there and placed hers on his leg, giving it a squeeze and then sliding her hand along his inner thigh, slowly back and forth._

"That's progress, Tom," said Hirsch.

Tom huffed. "Yeah…right. I progressed right into a panic attack."

"What happened?"

"I started…God, it felt so good…it really did. I had my hand on her knee. I wasn't moving it, but _her_ hand…she was rubbing the inside of my leg and then she…she slid it up higher, and she was close…so close…and I…God, I was getting hard, and she touched me there."

_As her hand grazed his growing cock, she turned to him and smiled. He was breathing heavily now, torn between the pleasure his body was feeling and the fear that was slowly creeping into his mind. Her hand returned to the hard place between his legs, and she cupped it and rubbed it, kneading it firmly. She whispered to him, "Ohhh…you like that, don't you? I can tell."_

_Tom was squirming in his seat now and he shook his head vehemently as he heard Eckert's accusation in his mind…"Damn! You're getting off on this, aren't you?! I knew you'd like it."_

"_No…" he said, "no…no…no…I don't."_

"_What?" she asked, sure that she had misheard._

"_I said no!" he shouted as he pushed her hand away. "Get your fucking hands off me!" He jumped up from his stool and threw a ten on the counter for their drinks._

"_What the hell is wrong with you?!"_

_Tom ignored the question and pushed his way through the crowd to the exit. Doug had been playing pool and looked up as he heard the commotion at the bar. As he saw Tom leaving, he followed him out._

"So I looked like a complete freak."

"It's a normal reaction, Tom," said Hirsch. "Flashbacks, nightmares, panic attacks, triggers…it's all part of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's going to happen…we just need to work on how you can deal with it."

Tom looked at the doctor. "But…it's everywhere…all the time. I can't…I can't do anything. It's always there."

"Like when? Give me another example."

"Like when…like…hell, I don't know…all the time!" Tom leaned back in his chair and put a finger to his mouth, chewing on the nail as he thought. "Okay…okay," he said, leaning forward again. "Like a couple of weeks ago. My car was in the shop, and Doug brought me here after work for my session. We ran a little late, and it was getting dark when we got back to my place."

"_Thanks, man!"_

"_No problem," said Doug. "So…seven in the morning? And I'll drop you off at the garage to pick up your car?"_

"_Yeah, sounds good. Thanks again." Tom opened the door and started to get out, but stopped short at the sight of the dark steps and corner of his apartment building, a sick feeling creeping into his stomach._

_Doug started to say something to him…to kid him about hurrying up…when the events of that other night came back to him as well. "Hey…you care if I come up and use the bathroom real quick?"_

_Tom was still sitting half in and half out of the car, his back to Doug. He hung his head and fought back tears of shame. He hated this. And he hated himself for feeling this way. He was ashamed and terrified at the same time, but there was no way he was going to let Doug walk him up to his apartment. "Doug…don't."_

"_Don't what? C'mon, man, I really gotta go."_

_Tom shook his head, still refusing to turn and look at his friend. "No…you don't." He sighed. "But thanks." He looked at the building, then looked left and then right, seeing nothing but darkness in either direction. Resigned to getting it over with, he said, "I'll see you tomorrow," and got out of the car, closing the door without looking back. He walked half the distance from the car to his building and stopped. Doug's car had not yet moved, and Tom knew it wouldn't until he was inside…and probably not even until the lights came on upstairs to show he had gotten in safely. His heart was pounding rapidly in his chest, and he felt himself suddenly fighting to breathe. A shiver ran up his spine as he glanced at the corner once again, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up._

"So what did you do?"

"I made a run for it," answered Tom. "Like a fucking kid afraid of monsters under the bed."

"Tom," said Hirsch, "it's perfectly normal and understandable that this would freak you out. It was déjà vu. Of _course_ it was scary. But you did it."

Tom laughed. "Yeah…yeah…I did it…with Doug babysitting me. And then I got upstairs and…" He stopped speaking, looking down at his hands.

"And what?" Hirsch asked gently.

"And I locked the door. And I turned on every light in the place. And I sat in the living room chair until morning."

"You didn't sleep?"

"No."

"What did you do the rest of the night while you sat there?" asked the doctor.

Tom hung his head again and mumbled, "Nothing…mostly. I…I…just cried." He lifted his eyes briefly to look at Hirsch, then looked back down again, embarrassed. "At least I didn't get sick."

"Did you feel sick?"

"Of course I did. Hell, I feel sick most of the time."

"That's a physical reaction to a psychological trauma," said Hirsch. "I can prescribe something to help you with that."

"Yeah?" asked Tom doubtfully. "Will it keep me from puking?"

"It might. That depends. Is that happening a lot too?"

Tom shrugged in response.

"Tom?"

"Just…sometimes," he said, fidgeting in his chair.

"Like when?" asked Hirsch.

_It was a sunny afternoon, and Tom had taken his mother out to lunch. They had a good time talking and catching up. She hadn't seen him much since the trial had ended, and she had been worried about him. So they enjoyed a good meal together, and Tom had actually felt like eating for the first time in a long time._

_Tom drove his mother home afterward and she asked him to come inside for a little while. He did as she asked because he had been feeling a little guilty about not spending time with her lately. And to be honest, it felt good to be there. He felt relaxed sitting on the sofa in her living room. There was none of the anxiousness that he still felt in his own home. His mother made him a glass of iced tea, and they talked some more, enjoying their time together._

"She asked if I would take out the trash before I left."

"Was that a problem?" Hirsch asked.

"I didn't think so, but…" Tom sighed, exasperated. "I got out back…it was just a little kitchen bag, you know? Tied off. But I got out there and…I took the lid off the garbage can, and…"

_The smell hit him like a punch in the face. He stood still, instantly transported back to that night as he lay on the ground behind the dumpster. He could almost feel the tight ropes binding his hands, cutting into his flesh, and the cotton rag stuffed into his mouth. He dropped the metal lid and the trash bag and leaned over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath, but every inhalation brought with it the rotten stench that caused him to gag and his stomach to clench. Before he knew what was happening, the contents of his stomach were coming up as he began retching violently, tears running down his face._

_When he finally finished vomiting, he stood upright, wiping the tears from his face, his back to the house._

"She saw me. I could feel her watching. But…when I went back in she pretended she didn't know."

"Did you talk to her about it?"

"No," replied Tom. "No…I…I just left. Then I sat in the car and cried…_again_." He looked at Hirsch, his eyes pleading with him to help somehow. "I don't know what to do anymore. It's been so long, but it won't go away. The son of a bitch isn't even around anymore, but it feels like he's everywhere all the time…around me…on me…in me."

Dr. Hirsch looked with sympathy at the young man sitting across from him. All of this was normal, especially for someone who had suffered such a horrific attack. As a psychologist, he knew that. But he was beginning to wonder if Tom Hanson needed more help than he could give him.

* * *

**There are a few more chapters to go, and then we're done. I'm not going to keep dragging this out forever, but there will be an ending to it. :-) I have a couple more stories in my head and I plan on writing those as well, so if you want to add me to your "Author Alert" list then you'll get an email when I publish a new story. Until then, thank you again SO MUCH for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate all of the kind comments and feedback. It's great motivation to keep going when I know you are enjoying it. :-)**


	31. Chapter 31

"_No," replied Tom. "No…I…I just left. Then I sat in the car and cried…again." He looked at Hirsch, his eyes pleading with him to help somehow. "I don't know what to do anymore. It's been so long, but it won't go away. The son of a bitch isn't even around anymore, but it feels like he's everywhere all the time…around me…on me…in me."_

_Dr. Hirsch looked with sympathy at the young man sitting across from him. All of this was normal, especially for someone who had suffered such a horrific attack. As a psychologist, he knew that. But he was beginning to wonder if Tom Hanson needed more help than he could give him._

_

* * *

  
_

Three weeks later, Tom was still sitting at a desk processing paperwork for the other officers' cases. The department was short two people, so despite his loathing for the work, Tom really was doing something that was important for the team. He just wished he could play a bigger part.

"Ohhhhh, secretaryyyyyy…" Doug's lilting, sarcastic voice floated throughout the chapel as he made his way to Hanson's desk. A couple of other people in the room snickered as Doug reached the desk and sweetly asked, "Would you be a dear and enter these in the computer for me?" He ended the question with a toothy grin.

Tom clenched his jaw and muttered, "Doug, I swear to God…"

"Pretty please?" Doug asked in a high voice as he dropped his papers in a heap onto the desk.

"Doug," Tom said evenly, "I mean it. Get those fucking papers…"

Doug feigned shock, covering his open mouth with a hand. "Such language! I'm going to have to have a word with your boss, honey."

"Doug…"

"Hey, I'm sorry, sweetie. Don't get your panties in a wad. Hey, how about I take you away from all this?"

"That…" said Tom, shuffling the new papers into a stack and putting them on top of a larger stack, "would be nice."

"So let's go," Doug said, not kidding around anymore.

"Go where" Tom asked impatiently, still annoyed with Doug's sense of humor.

"Drug buy."

Tom wrinkled his face in confusion. "Huh?"

"Drug buy, man!" said Doug excitedly as he pulled up a chair and sat down. "See, there's this punk kid…Logan Ashter. I've been running around with him…small stuff, you know? I can't get him to move me up…get me to the main guys. I told him if he could get me some bigger deals that I'd spread it around, you know? Bring him some more buyers." Doug leaned back in the chair and pointed at Tom. "And that's where _you_ come in."

Tom looked at Doug a moment and then rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Doug, even if I _wanted_ to, I can't." He looked down and started going through some more papers. "You know that."

Doug folded his arms. "That's not what Fuller says."

Tom raised his eyes. "Huh?"

"Go talk to him." Doug motioned with his head toward the captain's office.

Tom looked at him skeptically, then glanced toward the office and back again. "Really?"

"Yeah! Go on!"

"'Cause I swear, if you're screwing with me…"

"I'm _not_. Go." Doug gestured again toward the office.

Still fearing that this was some sort of trick dreamed up by his partner's warped mind, Tom hesitantly stood up and made his way toward Captain Fuller's door. He took another look back at Doug who motioned for him to keep going. Tom knocked on the door to the office, then opened it a little and leaned in. "Uh…Cap'n? Doug said I needed to come talk to you."

The captain looked up. "Hanson. Come on in."

Tom entered the room and sat down across the desk from Fuller who leaned back in his chair before speaking.

"So I've been thinking," the captain began, "and I think it's time to get you back out into the field."

Hope leapt in the young officer's heart, but weeks of having his hopes dashed caused caution to rear its head. "Um…I don't know, Cap'n. I mean…I want to, but…Dr. Hirsch…"

"Dr. Hirsch said it would be fine." Fuller saw Tom's eyes light up with eagerness. It was the first time since he had come back that the captain had seen him show any liveliness at work. But he wanted to make sure he didn't expect too much…at least not yet. "With a few conditions," he concluded.

A look of disappointment crossed Tom's face. "Oh," he said quietly.

The captain gave him a smile. "It's not that bad. We're just going to go slowly…take it a step at a time. Okay?"

Tom nodded. "Yeah…okay." It didn't matter to him what kind of "conditions" were involved, as long as he was able to get out of this place and do what he felt was some _real_ work.

"First of all," continued Fuller, "nothing long term yet. We're going to have you do some one shots…let you ease back into it."

"Okay," replied Tom, still apprehensive about what all of this was going to mean for him.

"Secondly, no primaries. You'll need to have another officer with you at all times."

The more the captain talked, the less excited Hanson began to feel about the whole thing. But he knew this was the beginning. Getting through this would eventually get him back out in the field doing the job he loved, so he would do whatever it took.

"So…" Fuller said, "I'm going to let you go out on this one with Penhall. For right now it's just one buy…no big deal. You really don't have to do anything other than go with him and make the buy."

Tom bit back the sarcastic reply that wanted to jump out of his mouth. "Taking it slowly" was an understatement. "Okay," he agreed.

Fuller leaned forward at his desk. "Look, Tom, I know this isn't the way you want to do it, but it's a start. Give it a chance. Get out there and see what it feels like. We'll have you out there again full time before you know it."

Tom knew the captain was right, but it really didn't make him feel any better. He was just going to have to suck it up and make the best of it. He nodded. "Okay, Cap'n. I can do that."

"You're okay with this then?"

"Yeah." Tom smiled. "I'm just glad to be getting out of here for awhile. Thanks, Cap'n."

"You're welcome," said Fuller as Tom got up to leave. "And Hanson?"

Tom stopped and turned to look at him. "Yeah?"

"I'm glad to have you back. You're a good cop."

Tom smiled. "Thanks."

* * *

"Are you sure you got it?"

"I'm sure, Doug, I'm sure!" Tom looked out his open car window, away from Doug who was in the driver's seat. They had been sitting in the grocery store parking lot for 45 minutes going over the details of the drug buy they were about to make. Tom squinted in the sunlight that hit his face. "I've done this before, you know."

"Hey, c'mon, man. It's been awhile. I just wanna make sure you're cool with everything." When Tom did not reply, Doug added, "All right?"

"Yeah…yeah…I'm sorry." Tom sighed and looked at his friend. "Let's do it."

Doug brightened. "Cool!" He started the car and put it in gear, then pulled out of the parking lot. He headed down the street six blocks and turned when they reached a corner that was occupied by a liquor store, two scavenging dogs, and three teenage boys covered in tattoos and leaning against the building. Doug made eye contact with one of the boys as he drove by, and the lanky male followed the car as it made its way slowly up the narrow street. When he reached the alley mid-block, Doug pulled the car in and drove to a small parking area behind the liquor store. He stopped the car next to a dumpster and checked his rearview mirror.

Tom checked the side mirror as well, watching the young man as he neared the car. "That him?"

"Yeah," answered Doug. "That's Logan. Come on." The two men got out of the car and went to the back of it.

"Hey, man," Logan said to Doug as he walked up, hands in his pockets. He cast a quick glance Hanson's way, then addressed Doug again. "You sure about this?"

"Yeah, man…seriously." Doug turned his back to Tom and whispered to Logan, "Dude, come on…you told me to bring in some more players and more money and you'd get me some bigger deals. Don't cut out on me now!"

The kid took another look at Hanson who was now leaning against the car, arms folded, looking bored. "What's he got?"

"Two G's."

"Man! You crazy?! You never got nothin' over a couple hundred from me. How you think I'm gonna be carrying 2 G's worth around with me?!"

Penhall grabbed Logan's arm and pulled him farther away from the car. He uttered between clenched teeth, "I _don't_. You said you'd get me more from your guys. So…get me more! Don't embarrass me in front of this guy."

Logan yanked his arm away from Doug. "I ain't just gonna waltz you in there, man. Lemme see the money…then we'll talk."

Doug contemplated the request for a moment and then said, "Come on!" as he headed back to the car.

Tom raised his eyes as the men approached. "Are we doing this or what?"

"Yeah…yeah!" Doug nudged Tom's arm. "Show him the money."

"What?! Why? Where's the stuff?"

Doug looked at Logan. "Guy doesn't believe you're in this for real."

Tom shook his head and stood up off the car. "Fuck it." He walked around the back of the car to the other side. "I got plenty of guys that want this cash. You don't? Fine. Go tell you boss you turned it down. See what he thinks. Or wait 'til he hears it from on one of his pals who _did_ take it." He got into the car. "We're outta here."

Doug looked at Logan and shrugged, then got into the car.

"Hey…hey…wait…wait…hold on!" The dealer ran over to the car and leaned into Doug's open window. "C'mon, man…I gotta make sure, you know? I can't just put it all out there 'less I know you can pay up."

Tom leaned forward in his seat and looked at the man. "Yeah? Same here. And you know…I don't think you even _have_ it." He looked at Doug. "Let's get out of here."

Doug started the car and put it into gear, but Logan did not back away.

"I can get it! I can get it! Just _wait_!" Both men in the car looked at him without saying anything. "Just…I gotta get in touch with somebody, that's all."

"Do it," said Tom.

Logan looked back at him and knew this would be his last chance. He shook his head, mumbling curses, and pulled his cell phone out of his front jeans pocket. He hit a number on his speed dial and gave the men in the car an annoyed glance before turning his back on them and talking into the phone.

Doug looked over at Tom, both of them trying to suppress the grins on their faces, and they bumped their fists together down low. They waited a few more minutes until Logan finished his call.

"So?!" yelled Doug out the window at the kid's back. "What's it gonna be?"

Logan slipped his hand into his pocket, putting the phone away, then turned to face the undercover officers. His hand now held a small semi-automatic pistol pointed directly at them. "No deal."

Doug's mouth fell open. "What the f…"

Logan stuck the gun out farther. "The money…who's got the money?" He looked up and down the alley quickly. "C'mon! C'mon!"

Tom shook his head in disbelief, uttering, "Are you fucking kidding me?" as he got out of the car. He walked quickly around the front of it and headed for Logan. "You want the money? _I_ got the money, you little prick! Come and get it."

Tom's actions took Logan by surprise, and he tried to back away, but the officer was on him in a flash, grabbing the hand that held the gun and pulling the kid's arm high behind his back as he spun him around. Hanson pushed him hard against the dumpster and pinned him there with his shoulder as he sharply twisted Logan's wrist, causing him to let go of the gun as he squealed in pain.

As Tom had gotten out of the car to go after Logan, Doug was taken aback as much as Logan had been. His first instinct was to jump out of the car and stop Hanson, but he didn't. He decided to wait and see how it played out, but his gun had been pulled out from under the seat and was ready…just in case. He watched as his partner put Logan's own gun against his head.

"What the _fuck_ are you trying to pull? Huh?" Tom pushed the punk harder against the dumpster for emphasis. "Who do you think you're dealing with? This isn't a game!" He pulled Logan by the back of his jacket and turned him around, shoving him forward toward the car as he held fast to the jacket. "See him? Huh?" Tom said, gesturing toward Doug. "You think _he's_ who you're dealing with? You're gonna _wish_ he's who you're dealing with!" He turned Logan around again and backed him up against the back window of the car.

The kid was shaking, eyes wide as Hanson put the gun in his face again. "Hey…man…you…I…they ain't gonna like it…you do something to me."

Tom laughed. "You think they give a shit about a punk like you? They got a hundred kids out on the street doing this for them." He leaned in close and shook his head as he whispered, "They ain't gonna miss you." He cocked the gun.

Doug heard the sound and decided it was time to step in. Up until now he had thought this was going pretty well. Unexpectedly…but well. Now he wasn't sure exactly how far Hanson might take it. He got out of the car. "Hey…hey…c'mon, guys, we can work this out." Both of the other men turned their eyes toward him. He looked at Hanson. "C'mon, man, let him up…let the kid go."

Hanson gave his partner a long, hard stare before releasing his hold on Logan and stepping back. He got close to Penhall, putting a finger in his face. "This is bullshit. You dragged me out here for _this_?" He looked at Logan a moment and then turned and walked around the car, waving the kid's gun as he did. "I ain't leaving empty-handed…takin' a souvenir." He got into the front passenger seat and slammed the door.

Doug put his arm around Logan's shoulder and led him away from the car. "What the hell was _that_ all about?"

Logan jerked away from him. "What's the matter with you?" he hissed. "Bringing some psycho shit dude out here. Fucker almost killed me!"

Doug laughed. "You had a gun on _us_, man…on _me_. What was _that_ all about?"

Logan cast a glance back at the car. "They just…fuck…all right, man, all right! They won't give it to me."

"What?"

"They won't give me that much…anything that big. I get all the shit deals. I thought…I thought if I brought 'em the money…"

Penhall nodded. "Then they'd know you meant business."

Logan hung his head. "Yeah."

"Well," said Doug, looking back at the car, "this wasn't the guy to try that on."

"Guess not." Logan shrugged.

Doug slapped him on the chest. "Don't worry about it. I'll make it good." He headed back to the car but stopped and turned. "And hey…look around…find one of your boys they _will_ let do something big, 'kay? I'll make it worth your while. Promise."

* * *

"How did it go?" Captain Fuller asked as Tom and Doug sat down across from his desk.

Neither man spoke right away. The ride back had been awkward, and they hadn't said much. Finally Doug cleared his throat. "I think it went well."

Fuller leaned back in his chair, studying the officers. "Well, gee, Penhall, you sound so sure. What happened?"

"Well…" Doug continued, "he wasn't gonna do anything for us…wanted to see the money. So we…well, Hanson pulled the plug on it and the guy bit. He called his people, but…"

"But what?"

"Then he tried to rob us," Doug said sheepishly.

Fuller sighed. "And then what?"

Tom spoke up. "I went after him."

"What do you mean 'went after him'?" Fuller asked suspiciously.

Tom sighed and spit it out. "I got out of the car and grabbed him and got his gun away and…I got a little rough with him."

"You just…walked right up to him?"

"He walked fast," Doug piped up.

"Not helping, Penhall," Fuller warned.

"I got him by surprise, Cap'n," Tom tried to explain. "And Doug had his gun out in the car. It was safe."

"Safe? And did it work? Did you make the buy? Get the top dogs?"

Tom and Doug both shrank a little in their chairs. "No," Tom uttered.

"So now what?" demanded the captain. "Are we blown with this guy?"

"No, no!" Doug perked up some. "It was good, see? We found out that these guys won't deal the big stuff with Logan." He sat back in his chair with a big smile on his face. "I've been wasting my time!"

"Well, _great_, Penhall!" Fuller exclaimed sarcastically. "Good to know you're earning your pay around here!" He sighed. "Look, guys, I agree. You found out some valuable information and we can move on with this case. But let's be clear. I don't like the way it went down. We've got rules and procedures in place for your protection and to protect the integrity of our investigation. And I'm sure you're not going to let this happen again. Am I right?"

The two officers nodded and answered in unison, "Right, Cap'n."

Fuller nodded. "Good. Now…Penhall, go. Hanson…stay."

Tom and Doug gave each other an "Aw shit" look before Doug got up and left the room.

"I just need to know one thing," said Fuller as he looked intently at Hanson. "Was any part of this…how it happened…what you did…was it ever out of your control?"

Tom shook his head. "No, sir."

"You didn't overreact because of what happened to you?"

Tom shook his head again.

"You didn't have any flashbacks? Any moments where it felt like that was Eckert you were going off on?"

Tom shuddered at the mention of the name. "No, sir," he said again.

Fuller nodded. "Okay…okay…but you know all of this information goes to Dr. Hirsch, and he's going to go over it with you…how it went…before you can go out again. You know that, right?"

"I know. It's okay, Cap'n. I know. I'll do it. Whatever I have to do to get back out there and get everything behind me. I'll do it."

"Good. Now go." Fuller resumed working on the papers on his desk, not looking up again until he heard the door close as Hanson left the room.

* * *

"Aw…he's not mad!" Doug looked at Tom as they sat in the car outside Hanson's apartment.

"Yeah, right," Tom answered dejectedly. "We…_I_ blew it."

"You did not! Look, that kid had been stringing me along for weeks. If you hadn't come in and pushed it, I'd still be hanging out with him on that damn corner waiting to score the big stuff."

"That's true," Tom agreed with a small laugh. But he quickly grew serious again. "I don't know though. This is tougher than I thought."

Doug looked at him sympathetically. "It'll get easier. You did good today. You'll be back in the swing of things before you know it."

"I hope so." Tom looked at his apartment. It was early evening, so the soft rays of the setting sun still played across the pavement. "I'll see you in the morning."

"_Early_, remember?"

Shit. "Yeah…yeah…4:00, right?" Damn audits. "Why do _we_ have to go?"

"Shorthanded, remember? Yeah, 4:00…and be ready. This isn't a good time to piss Fuller off. Want me to come up or just honk?"

"Honk…I'll come down." Tom sighed. "I'll see ya." He got out of the car and went into the building quickly, hearing Doug's car pull away after he was inside.

Tom spent the evening watching TV and drinking a few beers, trying to relax, but the day's events kept playing over and over in his mind. He had told Fuller the truth…at least, he thought he had. But he couldn't help wondering if the captain was right. After all, everything _else_ he did was tainted by what had happened to him. Maybe this was too. One thing he did know, however, was that he wasn't going to figure it out tonight. He went to bed early, hoping he could get some good sleep before 4:00 rolled around. But he doubted it, and as usual he was right.

Tom tossed and turned in his bed as the dreams taunted him and woke him up every half hour or so. In them, Logan turned into Eckert, his evil smile persisting even after Tom had shot him in the face. Logan was Eckert, turning the tables on Tom and holding _him_ against the car at gunpoint, grabbing his crotch. Logan was Eckert, pinning Tom to the ground, kneeling over him, holding Tom's hands above his head and laughing…laughing…

Tom awoke, screaming, still hearing the laughter. He couldn't move. Why couldn't he move? It was dark in the room, but he was sure he had left the light on. He _always_ left the light on. He couldn't sit up. His arms…they were above his head…and why the _fuck_ couldn't he move? _Jesus…oh, Jesus. _He screamed, but it was cut short by a hand clamping down hard over his mouth. He struggled to move again but froze as something brushed across his ear. And he heard it…the whisper…

"This ain't a dream, buddy…"

* * *

**Thank you all so much for your patience in waiting for this chapter! I've had some really crazy work hours that didn't allow much time for writing, but I finally got it done this morning. I hope you enjoy it and that it was worth waiting for! I really appreciate all of your comments, input, and reviews and hope you'll leave me some feedback on this one. Thanks again!**


	32. Chapter 32

_Tom awoke, screaming, still hearing the laughter. He couldn't move. Why couldn't he move? It was dark in the room, but he was sure he had left the light on. He always left the light on. He couldn't sit up. His arms…they were above his head…and why the __fuck__ couldn't he move? Jesus…oh, Jesus. He screamed, but it was cut short by a hand clamping down hard over his mouth. He struggled to move again but froze as something brushed across his ear. And he heard it…the whisper…_

"_This ain't a dream, buddy…"_

Tom couldn't breathe. _No…God, no…this is __not__ happening. Wake up! Wake the fuck up!_

Suddenly, the pressure was gone from his face and his hands. Tom gasped and sat up in bed, feeling frantically around him but finding nothing. The bed was empty. He sat in the darkness, feeling his heart pounding, and trying to keep from crying. It had seemed so real. He took a deep breath and lay back down, wondering how much time he had left before he had to get up, but not feeling like looking at the clock. He was calming down, his heart rate returning to normal.

Until the light came on.

Tom bolted upright in the bed again. The light on the ceiling shown garishly down, and Tom blinked and squinted in the sudden brightness trying desperately to see. But he didn't need to see. He could hear. He stopped moving, sitting perfectly still, eyes squeezed shut against the light, and listened. A small squeak and then a faint creak reached his ears. He shook his head slowly as another creak sounded, closer to the bed now. He was shaking, and a low moan escaped him as he felt the mattress beside him give way to new weight settling upon it. He flinched as something brushed across his hair, and then the back of his neck was gripped tightly.

Low and soft against his ear…"I told you…this ain't a dream."

The tears leaked from beneath Tom's tightly closed eyes as he managed to whisper, "No…" between gasps of breath.

"Yes…" was the whispered response. "Open your eyes." The hand on the back of Tom's neck gripped harder. "Come on…"…gently…encouraging…"Open…c'mon…"

Tom could smell it now…the rancid breath…the stale sweat. The scents brought with them the memories and the fear. His stomach clenched and threatened to erupt, but a new feeling of déjà vu had taken over…the feeling of cold, hard metal pressed against his forehead.

Not so gently anymore… "Open your eyes, motherfucker!"

Then the hand was gone. The gun was gone. And Tom slowly opened his eyes.

But Lee Eckert was not gone.

Tom fought back the cry in his throat as he looked at the man who was sitting beside him on the edge of the bed. The wild eyes and manic grin were there, and he had come a long way from his neat appearance in the courtroom. His hair had grown back out, disheveled and hanging against his shoulders. His face had at least a two-day growth of beard on it, and his clothes were worn, dirty, and reeking.

Eckert saw Tom's eyes roaming over him, taking in his appearance, and followed them as they finally settled on the gun he was holding in his lap. He laughed a little and stood up, walking across the room and laying the gun on top of the dresser by the door. He came back and sat down again next to Tom on the bed, cupping the side of his face with one hand and leaning in close. "We aren't going to need that, are we?" he whispered as he brushed Tom's cheek with his lips. He sat back and put his hand on Tom's chest, pushing him back then running his hand down Tom's t-shirt and grazing across his soft boxer shorts. "Lay down…come on." As Tom slowly settled back down onto the bed, Eckert patted the mattress and then ran his hand over it. "Oh…now this is nice…soft…much better." He smiled down at the frightened young man below him. "It's not gonna hurt…as much…this time, is it?"

The room seemed to be spinning to Tom. He knew that if he hadn't already been lying down he would have fainted by now. _Real…it's real._ Eckert was still leering at him. _Oh my fucking god it's real._ Time. He had no idea how much time he had before Doug would show up to pick him up for work. But since he wasn't gagged like last time…at least not yet…maybe he could stall. He tried to speak, lips trembling, but all he managed to get out was the choked sob he had been holding back. He put his hands to his face to wipe the tears off, but Eckert took his hands in his own and placed them back at Tom's side.

"Here…let me do that."

Tom cringed as Eckert's large, rough hands touched his face and moved across it, gliding through the wet tracks there. As the man finished, one more tear fell, and Eckert leaned over and quickly caught it with his tongue before it could get very far. He licked his lips and placed a small kiss on Tom's forehead before sitting up again.

"There…how's that?"

Tom ignored the question and managed to finally voice one of his own. "Wh…h…how did you…how did you get in here?"

"The key over the door. That's not very safe, you know."

Tom shook his head. "But…I took that down…after Doug wanted in. I…I took it down."

Eckert laughed. "Before that, stupid! Wayyyy before that! I took it and had a copy made before this whole thing ever started." He laughed again. "Man! I could not _believe_ it still worked! You know, you probably should have changed your lock."

"What do you want?" Tom asked as he looked up at the man. "Why are you here? Haven't you done enough?"

Eckert appeared to think about it, then said, "Mmmm, no…no, I don't think I've done enough. Not yet." He leaned over close and placed his hand on Tom's head again, caressing his hair. "You haven't learned your lesson yet, have you?" He grasped Tom's chin and moved his head from side to side. "No? No, you haven't. I know that. You're still out there…pretending…fooling people…screwing them. Like that kid behind the liquor store today."

A chill ran up Tom's spine. _Jesus…he's been watching me._

"Oh yeah…I saw you." Eckert snickered. "Got a little rough with him, didn't you? Yeah…see? I knew all along that's how you liked it." He gripped Tom's hair tightly as he ran his hand down his chest.

_Keep him talking._ "I thought…I thought you moved away."

"Oh, I live in Myer now, but I missed you." Eckert leaned over and mumbled against Tom's neck, "Mmm…gonna fuck you, cop…gonna fuck you good and hard." He sat up and began to move into place at the end of the bed, kneeling on it and straddling Tom's legs.

Tom saw his chance and took it. He pulled one leg back quickly and shoved it against Eckert with all his might. The ex-con was taken by surprise and fell off of the end of the bed. In a flash, Tom was up and running for the dresser where the gun lay. But just as it was within reach he was tackled from behind, crashing into the dresser. He fell to the floor, face down, with Eckert's weight on top of him.

Eckert pushed Tom onto his back and punched him in the face. "You fucking little son of a bitch!" He brought his fist down a second time. "What was that?! Huh?!" He pulled Tom up by the front of his shirt and shook him. "What the _fuck_ was that?!" He stood up and pulled Tom to his feet, shoving him toward the bed. When they reached it, Eckert pushed Tom face down on the mattress, his face in the pillow. He straddled the young man's body, putting one hand against his back and the other on his head, holding him against the pillow. "I was being _nice_ to you, motherfucker! This is the thanks I get?!"

Tom struggled beneath the larger man, but he was held firmly in place. Eckert suddenly stopped his ranting, and that's what scared Tom the most. _This is it…he's killing me._ The only sound he could hear was the blood pounding…roaring…in his ears as he tried desperately to get some air. But his face was fully engulfed by the soft pillow. He stopped struggling and his body relaxed…quiet, dark comfort overtaking him. _It will be over soon._

"When I'm done with you, I'm going after her."

The guttural words against his ear brought Tom back to attention, and he began struggling again.

"Oh yeah…there's that fight. I love the fight in you, Tommy." Eckert yanked Tom upright and the officer gasped for breath as Eckert pulled him so that they were both now sitting on the edge of the bed.

Tom glanced ruefully at his bedside table, wishing desperately that he hadn't taken his gun out of the drawer and moved it to a table drawer in the living room. He always wanted it nearby, but these days he never knew where he would end up falling asleep, and sometimes he lost track, leaving the gun in the wrong room. Like tonight.

Eckert noticed Tom's glance, and thinking he was looking at the alarm clock said, "Oh…don't you worry. I know you have to leave for work by seven." He put his arm around Tom and pulled him close. "We'll be done by then." He laughed. "Plenty of time. Hey…you got anything to eat?"

Tom, still stunned and recovering from the rough treatment he had just received, did not reply, so Eckert stood up, pulling Tom with him and said, "C'mon! Let's get something to eat!" He pushed Tom in front of him and continued to push until they were in the living room. He shoved Tom down onto the end of the sofa and then went behind the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen.

Tom looked around the room, weighing his options. Eckert still held the gun in one hand, even as he rifled through the refrigerator and cabinets. The kitchen was small, and the sofa Tom sat on was a mere few feet from it. And his front door…it might as well have been miles away. There was no way Tom could make it there without Eckert seeing and catching him…or killing him. And Tom could see that the man had taken care to lock it again after letting himself in. He sighed and looked at the table at the other end of the couch. The table drawer held his gun. He looked up as Eckert approached with a beer in one hand and a bag of chips in the other, the gun now tucked into the waistband of his pants. He sat on the sofa between Tom and the end table.

"Chip?" Eckert asked, putting the open bag in front of Tom's face.

The smell made him nauseous and Tom shook his head slowly. _He's crazy…he's fucking crazy. _He looked past Eckert at the clock on the kitchen wall. 12:27. _Shit._

Eckert turned to see what Tom was looking at and laughed. "Oh yeah…plenty of time." He took a long swig from his beer bottle. "Just lemme finish my snack here and we'll get started."

_Oh no…no, no, no, no this was __not__ going to happen. Not again. _Tom cleared his throat. "Why don't you stop?"

Eckert stuffed another handful of chips into his mouth and mumbled, "Now why would I want to do that?"

"You're free, man. They let you go. You got your revenge _and_ you got away with it. Just let it go now."

"That's where you're wrong, buddy." Eckert wiped his greasy hands on his pants legs. "I haven't gotten my revenge yet…not all of it."

Any hope Tom held was quickly dwindling. "But why not?" he asked, almost pleading and hating it. "Look at all you put me through. Why isn't it enough now?"

"Because…you have no idea what _I_ went through, man. _No_ idea. This is nothing compared to that, day after day with no escape." Eckert turned to face Tom. "_That_…is what I want you to feel."

Tom hung his head, refusing to let the man see the hopelessness on his face…the tears in his eyes. "Don't I already? Do you have any idea what you've done to me?"

Eckert laughed and put an arm around Tom, pulling him closer as Tom squirmed uncomfortably. Tom's head was against Eckert's shoulder now, just under his chin as the ex-con said, "What? You mean like…nightmares? Huh? Poor baby can't sleep?" His arm tightened around Tom's neck. "Or, uh…I know! How about that girl in the bar? Huh? The one in the red dress?"

Tom moaned in fear and repulsion, feeling like he might throw up. _God…Jesus…he's been with me….everywhere._

"Oh yeah…that's right. I saw you with that slut. You wanted to fuck her, didn't you? But you couldn't. She was all over you, getting you hot and hard…" The man took another long drink and then threw the empty bottle over his shoulder where it broke against the bar by the kitchen. Still holding Tom tightly around the neck, he put his other hand between his own two legs, rubbing the hard bulge that was forming. "She was getting you all worked up, but all you could think about…" He moved his hand from his crotch to Tom's face, turning it upward as he looked down at him. "All you could think about…was me." He brought his mouth down hard against Tom's lips as he held his head tightly.

Tom fought to get away from the disgusting taste of beer, chips, and rotten breath as Eckert's mouth surrounded his, the man's tongue probing deeply as he sucked and sloppily slid around. But Eckert held him fast against him, finishing the sickening kiss with a hard bite to Tom's lower lip. He pulled away, and Tom could see his own blood staining Eckert's chin and teeth as he grinned wickedly at him.

"You see, _that's_ what prison did to me, Tommy. That's what _you_ did to me." Eckert released Tom, pushing him away and into the corner of the couch. "_I_ can't fuck girls now either!" He laughed and wiped his mouth with his shirt sleeve.

This time Tom couldn't stop himself. He quickly leaned over the arm of the couch and retched, the contents of his stomach landing in a wet pile on the carpet. He stayed there, taking heaving breaths until the stench reached his nose, causing him to retch again. But with his stomach now empty, all he could produce were dry, painful heaves. When they finally stopped, he used the end of his t-shirt to wipe his mouth, wincing as he ran over the bite that Eckert had made. For a moment then, the feeling of helplessness overwhelmed him, and he began to sob, his back still to his tormentor.

Eckert let the younger man have his moment while he finished up the rest of the chips, then crumpled the empty bag and threw it over his shoulder. He could hear Tom's sobs growing quieter, so he clapped him on the back. "C'mon, man…it ain't that bad. That's enough." He grasped the back of Tom's shirt and pulled him away from the sofa arm.

Tom sat back in the corner of the couch, eyes lowered as he tried to breathe normally again. His throat was burning from the vomit. "Can…can I get some water?" he asked quietly.

Eckert cocked his head and looked at him. "Hmmm…okay…you can _have_ some water, but you can't _get_ it. _I'll_ get it." He stood up and headed for the kitchen, but turned around and added, "Don't move." He returned with a cold bottle of water from the fridge. He handed it to Tom but pulled it back as Tom reached for it. "Ah…ah…ah. What do you say?"

Tom looked up at him and then back down. "Thank you," he muttered.

"What?"

Tom looked up again. "Thank you."

"That's better," said Eckert as he handed the bottle over and sat down.

_Just keep him talking_. Tom took several long drinks of the water and then said, "So…yeah…you're right…about the girl. And that's not enough? To make me live with that?"

"Nope." Eckert shook his head.

"What about…my friends…family…the people I work with? They know everything now…every detail of what you did to me. I have to face them every day. And some of them…" Tom looked down. "Some of them…they believe what you said."

At that Eckert laughed. "Really?" He leaned back into the cushions and sighed, pleased with himself. "Awesome."

_Might as well go for broke._ "Did you plan all of this? From the beginning? The set up…Walsh and Kern getting killed? Were you…"

"Shut up, okay?" Eckert was still leaning back, but he looked agitated now. He turned his head and fixed Tom with an angry stare. "I know what you're doing."

"Wh…but I…"

"I said shut up!" In a flash Eckert had Tom by the back of the neck again and pulled the gun out of his waistband, shoving it hard into Tom's stomach. As Tom leaned forward with a grunt, Eckert pushed the gun harder and pulled Tom into an awkward embrace. "No more stalling," he whispered into his captive's ear. "Let's get on with this."

* * *

**Sorry about that cliffhanger last chapter. Hope this one makes up for it a bit and satisfies some of your curiosity! Although, I guess I gave you sort of another one, didn't I? Ah well...while you're waiting for the next update, go ahead and leave a review. ;-) Thanks again to everyone for reading!**


	33. Chapter 33

"_I said shut up!" In a flash Eckert had Tom by the back of the neck again and pulled the gun out of his waistband, shoving it hard into Tom's stomach. As Tom leaned forward with a grunt, Eckert pushed the gun harder and pulled Tom into an awkward embrace. "No more stalling," he whispered into his captive's ear. "Let's get on with this."_

Eckert released Tom and stood up, pointing the gun at him. "Get up." Tom did as he was told, and Eckert motioned with the gun toward the bedroom. "In there. Go."

Tom walked slowly toward the room. "I didn't think so," he said quietly.

"Didn't think what, cop?" Eckert put the gun against Tom's back and shoved him forward. "Move it!"

Tom stumbled a bit as he reached the bedroom entrance. Eckert shoved him again and Tom was through the door. He turned around to face Eckert. "I didn't think you planned it. You're not that smart." He tried hard to keep his voice from trembling.

Eckert laughed. "So…what? You think you're gonna insult me and I'll want to prove to you how smart I am? That I'll want to tell you everything?"

Tom shrugged. "No. I really don't think you planned it. I think you got lucky. You probably didn't even kill Walsh, did you? I _know_ you didn't kill Kern."

"Kern was a pussy," Eckert scoffed. "I didn't have to worry about killing him. Even if he testified, I would have taken care of it." He motioned with the gun to the bed. "Sit."

Tom sat down and watched as Eckert laid the gun on the dresser again and then took off the long sleeved plaid shirt he was wearing, leaving just the white, tight fitting, muscle shirt that he wore underneath. The sight of him undressing, even partially, disgusted Tom. He cleared his throat and spoke. "How?"

"Huh? Eckert walked over to the bed.

"How? How would you have taken care of it?"

Eckert stood close in front of Tom, looking down on him as he laughed. "Same way I took care of you. I'd have made it look like he was lying. Wasn't any evidence left. Hell, even the money and dope I gave him was gone by the next day." He crouched down in from of Tom and touched his cheek with the back of his hand. "I'll bet I could have even made him cry…like I made you cry."

Tom fought down the fury that was rising inside of him and asked, "What about Walsh? You weren't so confident about him testifying, were you? Or else you wouldn't have killed him."

Eckert shook his head. "Tommy, Tommy, Tommy…see, there you go again. See _that's_…" He slapped Tom hard across the face. "…what got you into this mess…trying to get me to confess to a murder. You just keep proving to me over and over that you haven't learned your lesson." He stood up and began to unbuckle his belt. "I still have a lot to teach you."

Tom was reeling from the sharp sting of the blow to his face, but he saw what Eckert was doing and tried again to keep him talking. "I don't give a shit if you killed him or not. There was no evidence. Just like everything else you did. You got away with it."

Eckert stepped forward between Tom's legs as the officer sat on the edge of the bed. Eckert's crotch was now in front of the young man's face, and he put his arms around Tom, pulling him closer. He put a hand behind Tom's head and forced it against his crotch, holding it there as he sighed, "Yeah…I got away with a lot of stuff, didn't I?"

The side of Tom's face was pressed against Eckert, and he could feel the hardness beneath the fabric of the man's pants. He moaned a little as Eckert began grinding against him, the hard mound growing larger.

Eckert sucked in his breath. "Oh God…yes…I love to hear you moan, Tommy…pain or pleasure…doesn't matter." He released Tom's head and pulled his belt out of the loops of his pants. With his other hand he pulled his zipper down and reached inside, letting out his own moan as he grasped himself. "You're gonna be good at this, Tommy…I can tell."

Tom shook his head and tried to back away. "No…I won't do it."

Eckert still held his belt in one hand, looped partway, and he swung it down hard against Tom's back. "I think you _will_," he said as he swung the belt one more time.

Tom let out a cry with each strike, the pain bringing tears to his eyes, but he still shook his head. "I won't."

Eckert dropped the belt and used both hands to unbutton his pants, pushing them down past his hips. His large, hard cock was straining against his briefs, fighting to be released. "Open up."

Tom watched as Eckert leaned over a bit, dropping his pants until they were around his knees, but he did not step out of them. Before he could stand up straight again, Tom gave him a hard shove and Eckert fell over backward, his entangled legs and his hands in the air like an upturned turtle.

Tom jumped to his feet and ran for the door, making a wide berth around the furious man on the floor. But it wasn't wide enough. He felt a hand grab his ankle, and although he fought hard to push away with his free leg, he was brought down to the ground. He reached forward, trying desperately to grab onto something, but the hardwood floor slid beneath his empty hands as he was dragged backward. He felt something wrap around his neck and then he was flipped over onto his back. A raging Lee Eckert loomed above him. Tom tried to squirm away, but Eckert pinned him by putting a knee in his gut. Eckert put all his weight behind it, and Tom groaned in pain. His throat was tightening, and Eckert's face danced above him, dotted with spots of light and color before blackness crowded in. He couldn't breathe…he couldn't breathe. His head felt like it was going to explode and then suddenly the tightness around his neck let up a little and the light came back bringing with it the sight of Eckert's angry face.

Eckert's belt was wrapped around Tom's neck as he held him to the floor. When he saw Tom starting to black out, he released some of the tension until he saw that Tom was alert again. "You wanna know why I killed that shit Walsh?! Huh?!" He was yelling…spittle flying from his mouth as he sputtered. He repositioned himself above Tom and planted his knee again hard into Tom's stomach. "I wasn't worried about his fuckin' testimony!" He pulled his hands sharply and fast in opposite directions, the belt clamping harder around Tom's throat. Eckert kept pulling, the belt tightening. "It was because he…_pissed_…_me_…_off_!" Tighter…tighter. "Just like _you're_ doing!"

Tom's vision was swimming. His head was pounding, longing for the blood supply that was being cut off. His chest was aching, longing for the oxygen that was being cut off. He clawed at his assailant, desperately trying to get free, but to no avail. He could barely hear Eckert's ranting as his consciousness began to fade away, but then he did hear something loud and clear.

_Thump…thump….thump thump._

Eckert immediately grew quiet and looked up at the wall.

"_Knock it off! I'm trying to sleep!"_

Although the belt loosened a bit when Eckert had looked up, Tom hadn't quite recovered yet. Still, he opened his mouth and tried to shout for help, but nothing came out except a small, scratchy squeak.

It was loud enough for Eckert to hear, however. He grabbed his discarded shirt and stuffed as much of it as he could into Tom's mouth, placing his hand over it and holding it firmly in place. He stayed like that for at least five minutes, making sure there was no more noise from the apartment next door before he looked down at Tom again.

Tom's eyes were wide with fear and pain, but he moaned with some relief as Eckert removed his knee from his stomach. Eckert stood up and harshly pulled Tom up with him. Tom was pushed onto the bed and Eckert clambered on top of him. The weight of the man's body on his chest along with the choking from the belt and the shirt stuffed into his mouth made breathing all but impossible, and Tom began to struggle in panic.

"Stop it!" Eckert hissed. He pulled the shirt out of Tom's mouth and leaned in so close to Tom's face that their noses were almost touching. "Listen carefully. This is what's gonna happen, okay? I was being _nice_ to you…no gag…no restraints…I wasn't even hurting you. But you listen to me. If you make any more trouble…any more noise…if you scream…if you fuckin' _move_ without me telling you to…I'm gonna turn you over and hold your face in that pillow…quietly…until you're good and dead. And then I'm _still_ gonna fuck your lousy dead body all night long. And when I'm done…then…I'm gonna pay your mom a nice little visit."

Tom's face crumpled in fear and despair and he shook his head. "No…please…" he begged softly.

"Then we understand each other?"

Tom nodded slowly.

"Good. See…thing is…the problem with Walsh…he never did what he was told. And it got him killed. That little lesson is a freebie, got it?"

Tom nodded again, wondering anxiously how much time had passed. Everything seemed to be moving so quickly, and yet then everything was going in slow motion. Eckert was still straddling him and he began sliding back and forth, rubbing his crotch against Tom's chest. The man's head was back, eyes closed, as he relished the sensation. Tom's first priority had been to somehow get Eckert out of here without anything…happening. But now, after Eckert's threats against his mother, Tom didn't want him to leave. He knew that Eckert meant what he had said…that he would kill Tom and go after his mother. But he also believed that he would go after her even if Tom was left alive. He couldn't let that happen.

"What did he do to piss you off?" Tom asked quietly.

"Hmmmm?" Eckert opened his eyes and looked down.

"Walsh. You said he pissed you off."

"Yeah," Eckert snorted. "What _didn't_ he do? He pushed me far enough in the bar, bragging like he was some big shit. Then he couldn't do a simple thing like hold your ass down for me. And I _told_ the fucker to disappear…told _both_ of 'em. Then the son of a bitch gets himself arrested. He was gonna roll over…I know he was." He looked down at Tom and smiled. "You know, I think he thought I was gonna do to him what I did to you. Scared the shit out of him. I think he was glad all I did was kill him."

Tom did not doubt that Eckert was right. After all, that's what he would have preferred at the time he was attacked. Even now there were times when he thought death would have been a better option than what actually happened.

Eckert lay down on top of Tom, keeping his knees at Tom's sides. He slid his hands through the young man's hair and nuzzled his neck, mumbling, "He didn't know how good it would feel. But you know, don't you, Tommy? Huh?" He took one of his hands and put it under Tom's t-shirt, running it up and down the smooth, firm skin underneath. He slid his body farther down Tom's until their crotches met and ground against him.

"Please stop…don't do this." Tom's voice was shaking as he pleaded.

"You don't like it, Tommy?" Eckert whispered against his neck before sliding his mouth up to Tom's ear and nipping at it.

Tom squirmed and tried to pull away. "No…I don't…please…just stop. Let me up. We'll…we'll talk or something."

"I think you're lying, Tommy. You like it. I can _feel_ how much you like it." Eckert laughed and sat up. He slid farther back so that he was straddling Tom's legs. "See that?" He gestured downward with his head, but Tom didn't have to look to see what he meant. "I can _see_ how much you like it. Can't you?"

Tom still refused to look. "_Any sort of physical contact with the genitals can cause an erection, whether or not the man is engaged in sexual activity. And if something sexual __is__ going on, whether he's enjoying it or not, his body is going to respond to the stimulation." _Tom recalled Dr. Marcus' words from the trial. They hadn't made him feel much better then…or now…but he did his best to stay calm and ignore Eckert's taunts.

Eckert tilted his head to the side. "What? Got nothing to say? Come on…say something." As Tom remained silent, Eckert's face hardened. "You know what?" He got off of the bed and went to the nightstand, picking up the alarm clock and yanking the cord out of the wall. Tom lay still, afraid to move, and watched as Eckert tore the cord from the clock, tossing the now defunct timepiece into the corner wastebasket. He leaned over Tom with the cord stretched out between his hands. "I changed my mind." He climbed back onto the bed and on top of the young man who was watching him with wide, fearful eyes. Eckert grabbed Tom's right wrist and wound one end of the cord around it, tying it tightly. He then threaded the cord through the slats of the headboard and pulled it so that Tom's right arm was drawn up above his head.

"Why?" Tom whimpered as Eckert secured the cord around his other wrist, his hopes of escape dwindling quickly.

"Because," said Eckert as he double checked the bindings on Tom's wrists. He sat back and admired his work, smiling at the sight of the young man with his arms stretched tight above his head. He leaned over and whispered against Tom's ear. "You pissed me off."

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**Hi again! Just to let you know, there are probably...ohhhh....two chapters left. Hope you can hold out until then! **

**One thing I wanted to mention that several people have asked about. Lee Eckert is a character that was completely made up by me. He was never in an episode, so the backstory case was made up by me as well. I have to say, I'm pleased that you guys hate him so much. LOL! It means I accomplished what I set out to do. But...I must admit, sometimes it scares me a bit wondering where I came up with it all and how I had that much evil in me to give to him. ;-)**

**Anyway, once again I really love hearing what you have to say about the story, and I really appreciate everyone who reads and especially those who review. Someone told me once that there was no need to thank them, but there certainly is! I really couldn't have continued on with the story without your encouragement. So thanks again!!  
**


	34. Chapter 34

"_Why?" Tom whimpered as Eckert secured the cord around his other wrist, his hopes of escape dwindling quickly._

"_Because," said Eckert as he double checked the bindings on Tom's wrists. He sat back and admired his work, smiling at the sight of the young man with his arms stretched tight above his head. He leaned over and whispered against Tom's ear. "You pissed me off." _

"I'm sorry," said Tom. _God, please don't gag me too._

"Too late. Lesson learned, eh, Tommy?" Eckert patted Tom on the cheek and then got off of him and picked up his discarded overshirt. He put it on the dresser next to the gun. "Might need that for something later."

"Like the sheet?"

Eckert looked up quickly upon hearing the words and then laughed. He walked over to the bed and looked down at Tom. The sight of the young man now bound…helpless…with his arms stretched tightly above his head…was too much for him. He licked his lips and took a few shaky breaths as he felt his cock come alive again.

The look in Eckert's eyes…the hungry lust…scared Tom terribly. He had to keep distracting him somehow, but without angering him again. "I just…I wondered…you know…how you did that. It was…" He swallowed hard. "Smart."

Eckert's eyes lit up and he grinned. "It was, wasn't it? Dumb ass cops and CSIs couldn't figure it out."

"How'd you do it?"

Eckert shook his head as he looked down. "You're doing it again, Tommy…trying to stall. But hey…you know what? I kind of like taking this slow. And we got time. Ain't nobody gonna miss you 'til oh…what? Eight or so?"

Tom shuddered as the man got back onto the bed and climbed over him. _What time is it __now__?_

Eckert settled himself at Tom's side, stretched out with his head propped up on one elbow. They were not touching, but he was close enough that Tom could feel his hot breath against his face when he spoke. "Lemme tell you a something then. See…I plan things out pretty good before I do them…so I don't make mistakes. I'd been thinking about you for a lonnnng time, Tommy…figuring things out. But you helped, you know?" He laughed. "Coming to see me in prison. That was brilliant!"

_It was stupid._ Tom's face reddened as he remembered.

"Made it real easy for everyone to believe me and you had a thing going. Especially when they found that sheet at my place. Hell, I just brought it with me that night…cleaned up a little with it." He moved his face a little closer to Tom. "It had a lot of you on it." Eckert laid his head on Tom's shoulder, his eyes roaming the length of his body. "Awww…looks like you ain't likin' this as much as you were awhile ago. We need to fix that." He pulled Tom's t-shirt up, exposing the bare skin underneath, and ran the tip of his index finger lightly over the lower part of Tom's stomach.

Tom shivered slightly and moaned involuntarily as he felt his body stir. _Shit._

"Oh, there you go…that's what I'm talking about." Eckert's finger lightly grazed the fabric of Tom's shorts and he was rewarded even more. "Oh, that's hot…look at that…that's so fuckin' hot." He still had his head on Tom's shoulder, and now he put his arm across Tom's body and pulled him close, sighing. "You know, I never really did get to _see_ it the last time."

Tom felt like he was going to get sick again. The bastard was holding him…snuggling up to him…like a lover. But he didn't dare move. This was better than the alternative, and the longer all Eckert did was "snuggle" the better. _Maybe he'll fall asleep._ He lay quietly, listening to the man's rhythmic breathing. But it wasn't long before Eckert was moving again.

Eckert breathed deeply, bringing in the deliciously mixed scent of fabric softener from Tom's shirt and the scent of soap from his skin. "Mmm…you got all cleaned up for me, didn't you?" He turned slightly and hooked one of his legs around one of Tom's, grinding against him and moaning as he sat up a little and roamed Tom's chest and stomach with his face, smelling as he went and then dragging his tongue and lips along the smooth skin.

This was too much for Tom. Eckert had pulled his pants back up, but they were still unzipped, and Tom felt the man's hard bulge pressing against his leg as Eckert humped him like a dog. Tom thought he even felt wetness there. _God, please…don't let it be._ His body was recoiling from Eckert's touches. His leg jerked as Eckert's hand moved to his inner thigh, but the man didn't seem to notice. He slid his hand upward and into the leg opening of Tom's boxer shorts. Tom could stand it no longer and he let out a pitiful groan and said, "No…"

"Shut up," Eckert mumbled against his skin as his mouth continued to explore Tom's exposed body.

_Make him talk._ "Are you going to kill me this time?"

"I'll kill you right _now_ if you don't behave." Eckert's voice was low and husky and his hand was now between his own legs.

Tom had to keep trying. "But…why did you leave me alive…before? So I could tell them what you did…testify. You could have gone back to prison for it."

"Jesus! For the love of…all right!" Eckert moved away from Tom's body and sat up next to him in the bed. "You know how to ruin a mood, don't you? Look…I told you then…I wanted this…you…living with it…in fear…all the time knowing I could come back." Then he smiled. "And I did, didn't I?"

"You weren't afraid of going back to prison?"

"Hell no! For one thing, I covered my tracks real good. You're lucky I didn't file some kind of assault or false arrest charge on _you_!" The man laughed. "Anyway, it was worth it. I had nothing to lose. I'd go back for something eventually…might as well make it worth it."

_I knew it._ "And now?"

"Now? Oh, after the trial, all of this is just a bonus. But this'll be our last time, Tommy." He saw his captive begin to pull at his restraints and felt his cock coming alive again. The power was intoxicating…being in control…watching the fear he was causing. "One last time…let's make it good."

Eckert straddled Tom's chest again with his knees, sitting back on his stomach. His pants were still unzipped, and the bulge under the white briefs inside was prominent. He leaned over and grabbed Tom's bound wrists, then dragged his hands down the length of the young man's outstretched arms, feeling the taut muscles there. Eckert put a finger to Tom's lips and whispered, "Shhhh…", then rose up on his knees and pushed his pants down past his hips. He scooted farther up Tom's chest and put a hand inside his briefs, moaning as he fondled himself. "You never got to see this either, did you, Tommy? You're gonna get a good look now. You're gonna get a good taste."

Tom couldn't help himself as fear and panic took over. There was no way he would let Eckert do this. Not again. He pulled at his restraints, knowing he couldn't tear the cord but hoping he could break the thin wooden slats that secured him to the headboard. His efforts were rewarded with a loud cracking sound, but he could not break free completely.

Eckert saw what Tom was trying to do and looked down at him in amusement. "You know, that just turns me on more. I like a fighter, Tommy, you know that." He sat back and watched Tom struggle for a moment longer, all the while still fondling his hard cock which was still contained inside his briefs. He felt himself getting closer…closer…and stopped before it was too late. "That's enough." He took his hand out of his pants and slapped Tom across the face, but the young man continued to try to get free. "I said that's enough!" This time he used his fist against Tom's mouth, opening up the bite from earlier, the blood splaying to Tom's right in various sized droplets, staining the sheet and pillow.

Besides the fear and panic, now there was more pain, and Tom cried out, "Stop!" as desperate tears began to fall.

"Shut up!" Eckert tried to keep his voice low. He brought his fist down again, this time landing hard in Tom's stomach. As the officer moaned and gasped for breath, Eckert landed another punch in the same spot. "I said shut up!"

Tom was kicking his legs now, trying to get out from under the larger man on top of him. He cried out again, "No! Stop! Please….somebody….help!"

Eckert bore down on him, clamping his large hand over Tom's throat and leaning hard on it. "Shut up!" Tom was incapable of speaking now, but even if he'd wanted to Eckert's next words would have silenced him. "1124 Bayridge, right? Nice little rose garden in the back. She ought to be out there watering 'em around 9:30…maybe 10 if she sleeps in…noon if she has to go to the store. Miller's Market…three blocks up, right?" He let go of Tom's throat and smacked his face again. "Right?"

"Please…" Tom whimpered. "Don't…please…"

"Should we call her up and make sure she'll be home? 555-2438, right? Huh?!"

"No…please…okay? I'll do anything you want…everything. Please just leave her alone…okay? Okay? Please?" Tom finished his soft plea with a quiet sob. "Please."

Eckert nodded. "Okay…okay. For now. Because you're gonna play nice, right?"

Tom nodded in despair. _What time is it? What time is it?_

"And you're gonna do anything I want….everything. You said so yourself." Eckert caressed Tom's hair and lay down over his body and began to nuzzle his neck, biting it as he did so.

Tom lay wide-eyed. "Wait…can…" He struggled to get the words out as Eckert's weight lay heavy on him.

"What?" Eckert pushed himself up on his hands and looked down at Tom. "What now?"

Swallowing hard, Tom asked, "Can…I need to…before you…we…"

"What?!"

"I need to go to the bathroom." Tom looked past Eckert at the ceiling…embarrassed. He really did have to go, although he also thought it would buy him some time too. There was no response from Eckert. He simply got up off of Tom and left the room. Tom was so surprised by the action that he barely had time to realize the man was gone before he was back…brandishing a knife from the kitchen. Tom shrank back in fear as Eckert approached him, holding the knife out. "Wait…wait!" he cried out, but the knife came down anyway and then back up as it cleanly cut the cord binding Tom's left wrist.

Eckert grabbed the longer end of the cord that was now dangling from Tom's right wrist and yanked it up, pulling Tom up off the bed. He moved Tom in front of him and then violently pushed him forward. Then again. He laid the knife on the dresser next to the gun and kept pushing Tom until they were in the living room. Eckert gestured toward the open bathroom door. "Go on! Get in there. And make sure you finish because that's it. No more. After you're done we're gonna get this going and get it over with. And leave the fuckin' door open!"

Tom went into the bathroom and turned to look in the mirror. There was blood on his chin and shirt from his cut lip and bruises around his mouth and on his throat. _It could be worse though._ He looked out the door and saw Eckert sitting on the end of the sofa looking at him. He turned his back to him as he stood by the toilet and began to urinate.

"Shy much?!" Eckert called out with a hearty laugh.

Tom ignored the taunt and finished his business, more quickly than he would have liked. He washed his hands and looked at his face again in the mirror. _How the hell can this be happening again?_

"Hey…hurry up, princess! Quit lookin' in that mirror and get your sweet ass out here!"

Drying his hands on the towel, Tom thought briefly about shutting the door, but there was no lock on it. He glanced out and saw that Eckert had gotten up from the couch. He couldn't see him, but he could hear him moving about the apartment. Tom had resigned himself to going out of the room and facing whatever was to come, when he heard it. A car horn honking. He stopped and stood frozen in his tracks. Another honk. He cursed himself for not telling Doug to just come up. How long would he wait before he did? _Come on, Doug…just come up here._ Another honk.

"Who the fuck is that making all that noise at this time of night?" Eckert looked at Tom as he exited the bathroom. "Is that for you? Is somebody down there waiting for you?"

Tom shook his head. Better that Doug just come up and take Eckert by surprise than for the ex-con to know he was out there.

"Well, they ain't going away," said Eckert as the horn continued to blow. He moved over to the window and cautiously peered out. "Heyyy…hey!" He looked up at Tom as he moved away from the window. "That's your partner down there. Isn't it? What the fuck is he doing down there now?!"

"I…I forgot. We have to go in early today." As Tom finished speaking, his cell phone rang from where it lay on the kitchen bar.

Eckert advanced on him quickly and grabbed him by the shirt. He pulled him over to the bar. "Answer it," he hissed. "Tell him you aren't coming in. Tell him you're sick. And you'd better hope to God he believes it and leaves."

Tom picked up the phone with a shaky hand. "Hey."

"Hey nothin', man! Get down here!" Doug's voice commanded.

Tom looked up at Eckert. "I…um…I can't come in today."

"Oh no you don't! Look man, just 'cause you're off desk duty now doesn't mean you can cut out on the audits."

"I know…I just…" Tom took a deep breath. "I don't feel good."

"What the hell? Tommy, you _gotta_ come in. I know I told you last night Fuller wasn't mad. But…yeah, I think he's kind of mad…at us. This ain't a good day to call in."

Eckert was giving Tom a look that said he had better hurry up. Tom's voice cracked as he said, "Doug…really…I can't come in."

"Look…you're making me late too, now just…"

"I said I can't!" Tom interrupted, barely keeping his composure. "Just go. I'll talk to you later."

Doug was stunned by the sudden outburst. "Are you okay?" he asked, but Tom hung up before the words were out of his mouth.

Eckert went back to the window and looked out. He waited until he saw Doug's car pull away, then turned back around. "That was good, Tommy, real…" He stopped short as he saw Tom backing away from the bar and into the living room, the sofa now between the two men. "Hey…hey, what do you think you're doing?"

Tom didn't answer as he edged closer to the end table, keeping his eyes focused on Eckert.

"Don't do anything stupid there, buddy." Eckert slowly circled around the other end of the couch.

"Shut up," Tom warned in a low, even voice as he made it to the table and reached for the drawer.

Eckert smiled. "Okay." He stood with his arms crossed, waiting. "What you got going on there, buddy?"

"This is over." Tom pulled the drawer open slowly and reached inside. When his hand did not find what it was looking for, Tom shifted his gaze from Eckert to the drawer. It was empty.

"Is this what you're looking for?" Eckert laughed hysterically as he reached into his pocket and pulled out Tom's gun.

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**Look at me go! Another chapter already? That's crazy talk! LOL! I guess now that it's coming to an end it's moving more quickly. The final chapter should be up soon as well. But don't let the fast past bother you. Go ahead and leave a review. :-) I like knowing someone's waiting to see how this turns out. **


	35. Chapter 35

**Well, you talked me into it. :-) There will be one more chapter after this. That's the good news. The bad news is that this one contains another cliffhanger. That's the price you pay for getting another chapter, lol! I hope you enjoy it!**

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"_This is over." Tom pulled the drawer open slowly and reached inside. When his hand did not find what it was looking for, Tom shifted his gaze from Eckert to the drawer. It was empty._

"_Is this what you're looking for?" Eckert laughed hysterically as he reached into his pocket and pulled out Tom's gun.  
_

Tom's heart sank and he froze at the sight of Eckert waving the gun around. What more could he do now? Doug was gone. Eckert had Tom's only weapon and the others were in the bedroom on the dresser.

Eckert wore a sad, mocking look on his face. "Awww…did I ruin your little plan? Were you gonna come out of this the hero?" He advanced on Tom as he spoke. "Sorry, buddy…" He reached out and grabbed Tom's arm, then pulled him toward him roughly. "That ain't the way this is gonna turn out." He pushed Tom away and held the gun out in front of him, aiming it at Tom's head. "Get on your knees."

Tom slowly shook his head and started to back away.

But Eckert was on him in a flash. "Get on your knees, motherfucker," he hissed, trying to keep his voice down. He grabbed Tom by the back of the neck and then kicked him in the back of the legs. At that point, Tom had no control or choice, and Eckert quickly forced him to the floor. He then crossed the room and laid the gun on the bar. When he came back to Tom, he stood in front of him, looking down on him, and said, "Look at me." When Tom did not comply, Eckert grabbed a fistful of the young man's hair and pulled his head back. He leaned over and whispered close to Tom's face, "It's over now, buddy. Let's just get on with this and get it finished."

_Over._ That word sounded so sweet to Tom. _Yes…please…let it be over._ He no longer cared how it ended, as long as it ended.

Eckert unbuttoned his pants and slid the zipper down. "C'mon, Tommy, open up. Open _wide_!" He laughed. "Hey, if we have time maybe I'll return the favor. Would you like that? Huh?" To his surprise, Tom nodded slightly. "Yeah?" Eckert asked.

"Yeah…yeah…I mean…I might as well get a little something out of it, right?" Tom looked up at Eckert with wide brown eyes. "Do me first? Please?"

Eckert looked at him suspiciously. Was the kid finally losing it? Or just accepting it? He didn't know, but the sight of him on his knees, looking up at him and pleading…begging…with those eyes…it was too much for him. He eyed Tom with a hungry lust, wanting to devour him right then and there…eat him up…fuck him over and over for hours. He nodded his head. "Okay…okay…yeah…let's do that." He zipped his pants back up.

Tom sighed with some relief. "Right here, okay? On the floor."

Eckert grinned. "On the floor…down and dirty, eh, Tommy?" He licked his lips. "Beg me."

"What?"

"Beg me to do it." Eckert was fondling himself as he spoke.

Tom cleared his throat and swallowed hard. "Please?" he asked as he looked up at the man.

"Please what? What do you want?"

_Jesus_. "Please…you…I want you…"

Eckert crouched down so that he was at eye level with Tom. "Want me to what?" He reached out and stroked Tom's cheek.

Tom was trembling now. "To…to…I want you to…do me first. In your mouth…take me in your mouth…on the floor." He gagged a little and prayed that Eckert did not notice.

But the man was too far gone now, lost in his urges. "Get down," he directed Tom and then pushed him as the younger man moved too slowly for his satisfaction.

Tom lay face up and stretched out on the floor next to the sofa. He watched as Eckert kneeled over him, his hands on the floor on either side of Tom's body. The larger man leaned over and nuzzled Tom's neck before inching his way on his hands and knees down the length of Tom's body. Tom continued to stare straight up at the ceiling. _C'mon…please…be there…be there._

Eckert stopped moving once he was positioned with his knees straddling Tom's legs and his head above the young man's crotch. "Oh…Tommy…you're going to have to do better than that." He pushed Tom's t-shirt up and leaned over and licked Tom's stomach just above the waistband of his boxer shorts, dragging his tongue slowly back and forth. "I can take care of that," he whispered, his voice full of lust as he ran his hands up and down Tom's bare torso. "I can fix you right up." His hands slid down and his fingers hooked the top of Tom's shorts. "You're gonna like this."

With Eckert fully preoccupied, Tom took his chance and turned to look under the sofa. An involuntary choking sob escaped him, and Eckert hushed him without looking up. But finally…this sound was one of relief rather than despair as Tom's eyes fell upon what he was hoping to see. He reached under the couch and chose a smaller, but hopefully effective, hand weight from the group that was hiding there. He gripped it tightly as he looked again to make sure that Eckert was still paying attention to other things. He was, his face close to Tom's body, concentrating on his efforts, ready to pull the shorts down.

_One chance._ Tom slowly brought his hand out from under the couch and raised the weapon high before bringing it down fast and hard. The weight connected with the back of Eckert's head with a sickening thud. Stunned, the ex-con momentarily dropped onto Tom's body, but he quickly looked up again with surprised eyes. Tom swung again, this time hitting his assailant on the side of the head, knocking him partway off of Tom. Eckert's eyes were no longer surprised. They were angry, and he tried to regain his balance and composure, but Tom knocked him off of him and quickly scrambled to his knees next to the immobilized man.

As blood ran down the side of his face, Eckert spat out, "You little fucker!" just before another blow dropped him all the way to the floor.

The weight was now sticky with blood and hair, and Tom tossed it to the side as he straddled the now semi-conscious man. "_I'm_ a fucker? _I'm_ a fucker?!" He brought his fist down hard against Eckert's face, relishing in the crunching sound he heard as the man's nose broke.

Eckert's bloodied head rose up slightly and he slurred, "Yeah…you…fucker…," before he was silenced again by Tom's fist.

How many times he hit the man, Tom wasn't sure. He lost count as he struck out over and over again in a blind fury. He finally stopped and crawled off of Eckert, gasping with exhaustion, nearly blinded by the tears that filled his eyes. He shakily got to his feet and looked down at Eckert who lay unmoving but moaning, eyes barely open. Tom picked up the weight and raised it over his head briefly before throwing it across the room. Eckert rolled slightly and tried to push himself up, but Tom shouted at him, "Stop it!" and drew his foot back, kicking the man in the side. "Stop moving, motherfucker!" he cried out between sobs of rage as he kicked him several more times before backing away, leaving the man unmoving again.

Tom backed up…he would never turn his back on Eckert…ever. He backed up until he was close to the kitchen and picked up his gun that Eckert had left there on the bar. He checked to ensure that the gun was still loaded, and upon seeing that it was made his way with it back to the living room.

* * *

Doug was still fuming as he neared the chapel, talking out loud to himself in the car. "Son of a bitch hung up on me! Seriously. What the fuck? I mean, I go out on a limb for him…I help convince Fuller that he's ready to go back into the field…then I help cover his ass when he goes all Charles Bronson on that kid out there…and he calls off?! Makes _me_ late too so _my_ ass is in trouble?" He pulled into the parking lot, still dark in the early morning, turned off the engine, and looked around. It looked like everyone else was already there. _Shit. I'm gonna kill you, Hanson._ "Sick my ass. He was fine last night." Doug remembered dropping Tom off the night before. Their conversation had been a bit of a downer. _"I don't know though. This is tougher than I thought."_ Recalling Tom's words and how low he had seemed about how the day had gone, Doug sighed. He picked up his cell phone and started to dial, then changed his mind, started the car, and drove out of the lot.

The lights were on in Tom's apartment as Doug drove up and parked. _What's going on with you, Tommy? Why don't you talk to me?_ He went into the building and made his way up the stairs to the second floor. As he walked down the hall, the door to the apartment next to Tom's opened, and a lady wearing a bathrobe and a head full of curlers stuck her nose out.

"You the cops?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"I called the cops." She stepped out into the hallway, trying to pull her robe farther around her ample figure. "You them?"

"Uh…sort of," said Doug. "What'd you call them for?"

The woman tilted her head in the direction of Tom's door. "They been fightin' in there all night. I hollered at 'em to knock it off once, but they're still at it. So I called the cops."

Doug's heart was pounding as he looked from the woman to Tom's door. "Call them again," he said in a low voice as he pushed past her.

"What? Ain't you…"

"Get inside and lock your door. And call them again." As the woman went back inside her apartment, Doug crept closer to Tom's door and listened. He could hear muffled shouting but could not make out the voice. His hand reached above the door for the key that was no longer there. _Damn it, Hanson. _The voices inside the apartment grew louder…angrier. Doug quietly and slowly turned the doorknob just to check, but it was locked as he was sure it would be. He drew his weapon and took a deep breath. _Here goes nothing._ He stepped back from the door and then smashed into it full force with his shoulder. The door gave way to his weight with a crash and he was inside the apartment.

Of all the things Doug expected to see inside, the scene in front of his was not one of them. Lee Eckert sat on the floor of the living room, legs stretched out and his back against the couch. The hair on one side of his head was matted with blood. Blood also coated his face and dotted the white undershirt he wore. From the look of the smile on his face, however, none of this seemed to bother the man.

Tom stood at a safe distance from the ex-con, both arms extended, pointing a gun at Eckert, portions of an electrical cord tied around each wrist, the ends dangling in the air. _Aw shit._ Tom's face bore its share of injury as well, his lip swollen and bloodied, bruises on his cheeks. He did not even look up when his partner burst into the room. But Eckert did.

"Awww…if it ain't your loverboy, come to rescue you. I always knew he was jealous of us."

"I told you to shut up!" Tom's arms were trembling from the exertion of holding his gun out.

"Hey…hey, Tom," Doug tried to get his partner's attention. "It's okay, man…I got him. Put the gun down, okay?"

"No! No…I…I got him…_I_ got him." Tom did not take his eyes off of Eckert.

"Look at me, Tom…look. I've got my gun on him. He's not going anywhere…okay? You give me your gun, okay?"

Tom shook his head vehemently. "No! _I_ got him! _I_ got him!" He shrugged a shoulder to wipe the tears from his face.

"The cops are on the way, Tommy. They'll be here any minute. We'll get him out of here, okay?" Doug still could not draw Tom's attention away from Eckert.

Tom shook his head again. "They'll let him go…just like last time!"

"No, they won't, Tommy. I'm here. The neighbor heard. The cops are coming. They'll see. We're all witnesses. They won't let him go."

"Yes, they _will_! They won't believe me! Jesus, Doug…Jesus fucking Christ! He said…the bastard said he'd go after my mom when he left here!" Tom stopped shouting then and said quietly. "I can't let him leave."

From his position on the floor, Eckert laughed and then spit blood onto the floor next to him. "That's right, buddy…you'd better not let me leave…not alive, anyway. I'd go right over there and…"

"You shut your fuckin' mouth!" Tom straightened his arms, holding the gun out farther.

"…'cause you _know_ I know where she lives. Been there plenty of times already. This time I'll go in though…maybe at night, like now, while she's sleeping…"

Tom shook his head, repeating under his breath, "Shut up shut up shut up."

"Tommy, don't listen to him. He's just screwing with you." Doug's attention was suddenly diverted by the arrival of two uniformed officers with guns drawn. He backed up slightly until he was just outside the doorway and quickly explained what was going on. All three men re-entered the apartment, and the two officers circled around behind Eckert.

"Cavalry's here!" Eckert shouted with glee.

Ignoring the man, Doug spoke to Tom again. "Come on, man…look…we got him…he's not going anywhere."

"Yeah…not yet," Eckert piped up. "Not until I get out again and come back to see you. 'Cause…God…you're the best fuck I've ever had."

This time it was Doug who told the man to keep quiet, but Eckert continued.

"Did you guys know? Aw man….he's got the tightest, sweetest ass! You liked it, didn't you, Tommy? Everybody knows you liked it because you came all over the place, screaming like crazy." He laughed. "Let me go with them. I won't be gone long and then I can fuck your tight ass as many times as I want."

"You shut _up_!" Tom shouted. He could see the officers in his peripheral vision, but he never took his eyes off of Eckert. Everything was becoming blurry, however, as his tears overflowed again.

Doug slowly edged closer to Tom and spoke quietly to him. "Tom…listen to me. He's just trying to get to you. He doesn't even care if you kill him, because you'd go to jail for the rest of your life. It's the only thing he can do now…the last way he can get to you…his final way of getting revenge. He'd _win_, Tom. He'd get everything he ever wanted. He'd totally ruin your life and make you _live_ with it!"

Tom did not look at Doug, but his arms relaxed a bit and his hands holding the gun began to shake.

Doug moved closer and lowered his own weapon. "Come on, man. You just put your gun down and these guys will move in and get him…okay?" He saw Tom waver, his eyes shifting to Doug and back to Eckert. "It'll all be over then…okay?" He nodded to the two officers who were nearest to Eckert. As they closed in on the ex-con Tom slowly lowered his gun, but he did not stop looking at Eckert nor did Eckert take his eyes off of Tom, even as the officers approached and told him to stand. As one of them reached down and took Eckert by the arm and began to pull him to his feet, Tom sank into the chair behind him.

Suddenly, everything begins to move in slow motion for Tom…he hears Doug next to him saying it's over…feels his hand on his shoulder. He sees Eckert standing up, the officers preparing to cuff him. He sees Eckert's plaid shirt on the floor near the bedroom door, except…it's supposed to be on the dresser with the gun and the knife. Realization sets in too late, and his eyes travel back to Eckert whose lips are moving as well as his one free hand. He sees Eckert's hand slip into his front pocket and hears him say, "_Now_ it's over, buddy" as he pulls the gun out of his pocket. As is police protocol, he cries out, "Gun!" but Eckert's gun is already firing point blank into the abdomen of the officer who is trying to cuff him. And then the gun is being aimed at Tom as Eckert twists away from the other officer. Tom raises his gun and aims at Eckert, but he's not quick enough and he feels the burning pain in his body just as he fires his weapon.

He doesn't see if Eckert is hit or not. All he sees now is a blur of figures and motion in front of him. He hears Doug's voice again…closer now than ever before…feels him take the gun away. He looks down and sees the red stain forming on his clothes…moving…no…not moving…spreading…getting larger. Doug's hands are on him now and he hears shouting, but he can't make out the words. It doesn't matter. He doesn't care anymore. He let's go. It's over now.

* * *

**One more chapter coming soon to wrap everything up! As I said before, the cliffhanger is what you get for forcing another chapter out of me, lol! I really hope you liked this one and that I haven't disappointed you. Please let me know what you think. Remember...encouragement helps me to write faster. ;-)**


	36. Chapter 36

**This is the final chapter. **

* * *

_He doesn't see if Eckert is hit or not. All he sees now is a blur of figures and motion in front of him. He hears Doug's voice again…closer now than ever before…feels him take the gun away. He looks down and sees the red stain forming on his clothes…moving…no…not moving…spreading…getting larger. Doug's hands are on him now and he hears shouting, but he can't make out the words. It doesn't matter. He doesn't care anymore. He lets go. It's over now._

Someone scored. He knew because the crowd was cheering. Off and on for about an hour now he had been hearing the muffled sounds of an announcer and the occasional pitch for beer or trucks. But whenever the crowd cheered it raised his awareness a little more each time. And now they were really going at it. So Tom opened his eyes.

The room was dim…and blurry. Tom blinked his eyes a few times and things became clearer. The familiar sight of the monitors and IV lines joined the familiar sound of beeping and the smell of antiseptic. He looked around the room and found the source of what he had been hearing as he slowly awoke. There was a small television mounted to the wall on his left, a baseball game playing out on the screen. Below it, leaning back in a chair with his feet up on a small table, was Doug. Tom yawned. "Who's winning?"

Doug turned his head to look at Tom. "Hey, man!" He got up and switched off the TV, then went to Tom's bedside. "How you feelin'?"

"Mmmm…" Tom surveyed his surroundings again. "I don't know. Tired, I guess. How should I feel?"

"You should feel fine." Doug smiled. "You're gonna be okay. The bullet went in just under your collarbone. They dug it out, but you lost a lot of blood. Had a little infection too."

"Yeah?" Tom suddenly felt queasy. "How long have I been here?"

"Couple of days," answered Doug. He rolled his eyes. "Anything to get out of doing those audits, huh?

Tom laughed a little and then grimaced. "Hey…can I sit up a little?"

"Yeah..sure." Doug adjusted the bed so that Tom wasn't lying flat anymore.

"Thanks." Tom looked down at himself and saw the IV lines running into his left arm and the hospital ID bracelet on his right one. His skin looked pale, save for a few bruises here and there. And although he could not see beneath the blue and white checkered hospital gown he wore, he could feel the pull of adhesive tape and gauze on the upper left side of his chest. He tried to use his arms to adjust his position a little more, but the left one gave way and he stifled a small cry of pain.

"Hey! What did I tell you?"

The booming authoritative voice startled Tom, but he was relieved when he looked up and saw that it was not directed at him.

Helen stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, her pastel flowered scrubs failing to soften the look on her face. She marched into the room and straight over to Doug. "Didn't I tell you that you could stay in here if you let us know when he woke up?"

Doug gulped as he looked down at the older woman. "Yes, ma'am."

She leaned in closer, looking up at him with stern eyes. "Did I _say_ to let him wake up and start moving around and hurting himself?"

Doug shook his head. "No ma'am."

"All right then!" Helen pushed past a shamefaced Doug and went to Tom's side. "Hi, sweetie. How you doin'?" she said with a smile.

"Hi, Helen." Tom smiled back. "I'm okay. It's not his fault. I was…"

"Oh yes it _is_ his fault!" She turned to give Doug a look and he shrank away. "He's been hanging around here for days, sleepin' in that chair and snoring loud enough to keep the whole floor awake, trying to weasel free pudding off the day shift girls, and that's because _he_ broke the vending machine when he tried to stuff it full of Canadian quarters!"

Doug was now sitting, deflated and humiliated, in a chair, and Tom couldn't help but snicker at his predicament.

Helen looked at Tom. "It ain't funny! He knocked the coffee pot over the other night too." She gave Tom a sweet smile and shook her head. "Hon', you need to stop comin' here, okay? Not just for your own good, but for his sake too." She glanced over her shoulder.

"Okay. I'll try."

The woman grew serious then and said kindly, "Try harder, hon'." Tom nodded silently in response and she asked, "You havin' some pain on this side?" as she lifted his left arm slightly so that she could pull the sheet back. He nodded again with a slight grimace. "Okay," she said softly. "Lemme take a look. We'll take care of it." She untied the shoulder of his gown and brought it down, revealing a large gauze pad secured with medical tape. Blood had seeped through the pad. She gently laid his gown back over the wound site and patted his arm. "I'm gonna go get you something for the pain and also change that dressing for you, 'kay? I'll be right back." As she left the room she pointed at Doug and said, "_You_ stay right there!"

Doug didn't dare disobey, so he stayed in the chair until Helen had come back and done her work, leaving Tom with a freshly cleaned wound and an IV full of pain medication. Once she was gone, however, Doug moved his chair closer to Tom's bedside.

"She said it's gonna make me sleepy," Tom said, his words already sounding slightly slurred, "so let's get on with it." He shuddered involuntarily at those last words, remembering Eckert saying them several times. He shook off the bad memories and asked with a heavy sigh, "What happened? Where is he?"

Up until now Doug could hardly wait to say the words he was about to say. But somehow…now that it was done…it didn't feel the same. He said them anyway. "He's dead."

Tom had been expecting those words…hoping for them. "Eckert?" He had to be sure.

"Yeah."

"You're sure?" It didn't seem to Tom like it could be real.

"I'm sure," Doug answered with a smile. "It was a great shot, partner. Especially…you know…considering he got you first. But he was dead before he hit the floor."

If he had ever wanted to kill anyone in his life, Tom would have wanted to kill Lee Eckert. Now that he was dead, and by Tom's own hand, he didn't know what to feel. There was relief, of course, although it was cautious relief, because Tom wasn't entirely sure he would ever feel that the man was really gone. And even though it needed to be done…even though he had no choice at the time, killing a man…even a man like Lee Eckert…wasn't something Tom had ever wanted to do. "What about the cop?"

Doug lowered his eyes and bit his lip. "Yeah…uh…he died too…the one Eckert shot. I'm sorry, man."

Tom nodded and looked away. Somehow, that was the one thing that he _had_ been sure about. Of course, he hadn't called for the police himself. It wasn't really his fault that they were there, and he had no way of knowing that Eckert had gotten the other gun from the bedroom as well as Tom's gun from the drawer while he was in the bathroom. And yet he felt responsible. How could he not? "Well…yeah…I…" He fought to keep his composure. "I figured."

Doug nodded in response and said simply, "Yeah."

The two men were silent then, each lost in his own thoughts about what had happened. Finally Tom spoke. "So…hey…um…I think the pain meds are kicking in. I'm getting kind of sleepy."

"Oh yeah…sure…I guess I'll take off now that…you know…"

"Yeah," said Tom. He looked up at his friend appreciatively. "Thanks, Doug."

"I'm sorry…about everything. But I'm glad you're okay," Doug said quietly as he watched his friend drift off to sleep.

* * *

"You sure you don't want me to come up?"

Tom shook his head and got out of Doug's car. He leaned back in through the window and said, "Nah…I'm good."

Doug did not look convinced, but he and Tom had already had this discussion more than once. "Okay, but if you need anything…"

"I know."

"Just call me," Doug finished. "Anytime. And I'll come over…or you can come back to my place."

"I know," Tom repeated. "I'll call you if I need to. I promise."

Still unsure, Doug relented and drove away, leaving Tom standing on the sidewalk in front of his apartment building, as he knew Tom wanted him to do.

Tom watched his friend drive away into the darkness. How many times since this whole thing began had they done this, always with Doug waiting for Tom to go inside before he left? But it was time to change that. It was time to change a lot of things.

Tom had spent five days in the hospital after the shooting. His mother was a constant presence, of course. And his psychologist, Dr. Hirsch, had made several visits. But when it was time to leave, Tom had decided it would be better if he didn't stay with his mother this time. By the end of the trial, the continuous togetherness had begun to take its toll on both of them. And although she would always welcome the opportunity to mother him and take care of him, Margaret had agreed with his decision to stay somewhere else this time.

So Tom had accepted Doug's offer to stay at his place for as long as he wanted to stay. His injury was healing well, although he was still having trouble moving his left arm without causing pain. He had been given some more time off from work, but he wanted to get back as soon as possible. So after spending two weeks at Doug's, Tom was back at his own apartment for the weekend, determined to start work again on Monday.

Tom ascended the stairs easily but paused when he reached the door to his apartment. The hallway was dark and quiet, something for which he was grateful. He knew that by now all of the neighbors would have found out what had happened…both inside the apartment that night and before. The last thing he needed right now was a bunch of stares and questions. He looked at the door again and sighed, then put the key in the lock and turned.

Doug had told Tom that he and some of the others from work had come by and cleaned the apartment. At first glance, it seemed so. Everything looked neat and in place. Tom walked in and closed the door behind him. The place even smelled fresh. He walked into the living room and stopped between the couch and chair, looking down at the place where Eckert had sat, bloodied and grinning, taunting Tom to the very end when he…and the officer…had died. He looked down at the chair where he himself had finally sat down, relieved, until Eckert forced his hand with one final coup de grace.

There was no evidence left, although Tom did not look very closely as he passed through and made his way to the kitchen. Nothing to see there really. He opened the refrigerator and looked in, but he honestly couldn't remember what should have been in there. He closed the door and started to leave the area, but stopped as he glanced at the counter next to the stove. Tom wasn't a chef by any means. Frozen dinners and takeout pizza were about the extent of his culinary skills. But he did have a set of nice knives in a wooden block. A girlfriend had given them to him years ago in a half-hearted attempt to get him to eat better. They had, for the most part, sat unused and collecting dust. And now one of them was missing. It was still in evidence, and even though he would eventually be allowed to have it back, he wouldn't want it. He moved on through the house.

The bedroom door creaked slightly as Tom pushed it open. True to Doug's word, the room was just as neat and clean as the rest of the place. The bed was made with fresh linens, and the floor was spotless…no signs anywhere of the struggles or the blood Tom had shed here. As he stood in the doorway, Tom put his hand on the empty dresser top where various weapons had been placed at times. He ran his hand across it, feeling the smooth surface, and then walked into the room.

Tom approached the bed and stood where his assailant had once stood looking down on him. In his mind he could see himself staring back up with fearful eyes. He shook the memory off and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked around the room again, and his eyes settled on the nightstand where a new…cordless…alarm clock sat. Doug…or someone…must have bought it. The kindness of that gesture in the wake of the violence that broke the old one touched Tom, and his eyes welled up in gratitude. He took a deep breath to collect himself, but there was now a crack in his wall of resilience. The crack widened and he bent over, head in his hands, and cried as his emotions poured out.

Tom guessed that he had wept for a good ten minutes, judging by the new clock. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, then stood up and looked back at the bed. He reached out and ran his hand down the length of one of the slats in the headboard. He drew in a sudden sharp breath and quickly withdrew his hand as he felt a sting. A quick close examination showed a splinter embedded in his middle finger, deep enough to draw blood. He sucked on the finger for a moment and then used a fingernail to scrape out the wood fragment. He sucked on the wound again, wincing as he examined the headboard. It wasn't noticeable from the front, and even if they had known it was cracked they couldn't have done anything about it. He took one last look at the bed and left the room.

Tom sat in a chair at the kitchen table, taking long, slow drinks from a cold bottle of beer as he stared into the living room. He was determined that he would stay the weekend here…alone…however he had to manage it, even if he had to sit, eat, and sleep on the floor. But he also knew that come Monday he would find himself another place to live…someplace where he could get a fresh start. He had feared that leaving this place would be hard on him, but he knew now that it would not. He looked around the room again. It was no longer his apartment to him. It was just a crime scene.

* * *

Monday morning, Tom sat anxiously in the chair across the desk from Captain Fuller. He watched as the man looked through some papers, wrote something, and looked through some more papers. Finally, the captain looked up at Tom and spoke.

"Okay. We're going to try it."

Tom sighed with relief, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off of him. "Thanks, Cap'n." He grinned. "You won't be sorry."

"I'm going to hold you to that, Hanson." Fuller leaned a little over the desk to look at Tom more closely. "You still look pretty rough to me. No sleep?"

"Uh…" Tom swallowed hard and decided to speak the truth. "No…Cap'n…I…I didn't get a lot of sleep this weekend. But…that's actually a good thing."

Intrigued, Fuller raised his eyebrows. "How so?"

"There was a lot of…it's just…it's a bad place now, you know? A lot of bad things happened there, but …I went back. I faced it. And yeah…I…I was scared" Tom looked down for a moment and then back up, looking Fuller in the eye. "But I did it. I had nightmares and everything, but…c'mon…that still happens when I take a nap in the break room here." He laughed a little. "The point is…this was bad, but…compared to before? Compared to _that_?" Tom sat back in his chair and shook his head. "This was nothing. This was…" He smiled now and nodded. "I won, Cap'n. I _won_. To the end…he tried to take me down with him, but I wouldn't go. I _won't_ go. This is it for me." He leaned forward and said again, "I won."

Fuller sat back in his chair, considering all that Hanson had said. He was proud of how far the young officer had come, but he needed to remain professional about it. "Well, Dr. Hirsch recommends that you be allowed to continue working in the field at this point. But right where we left off," he cautioned.

"I know."

"Small steps…no solos. And don't think I've forgotten about that little stunt you pulled with Logan Ashter."

Tom nodded.

"And as you know," Fuller continued, "Internal Affairs has already cleared you in the shooting." He looked at Tom. "It was a good shooting, Tom. Clearly self-defense, and you probably saved the lives of the other officers there as well."

Tom nodded again and cleared his throat, knowing that he and the captain both knew he hadn't been able to save everyone. "Thanks, Cap'n."

Fuller studied him for a moment. "Found a new place yet?"

At the change of subject, Tom brightened. "I've got a few good leads on some places."

"Good." Fuller returned to shuffling the papers on his desk. "All right. Go on. Get out of here. See Penhall…_if_ he's managed to wake up yet. You guys have an arson case at Baxter High over in Spencer. You're due in at nine."

Tom stood up, smiling broadly. "Yes, sir." He left the captain's office and went in search of Doug, finding his partner sitting with his head on his desk. Tom crept up and leaned over, putting both palms on the desk. He got as close as he dared to Doug and then shouted, "HEY!"

Doug's head jerked up from the desk. "What? What?" He twisted his head, looking back and forth. "I'm awake!"

Tom laughed. "Yeah, I can see that. Hey…you uh…got a little something…" He pointed to the side of his own mouth.

"Huh?" Doug asked with a blank stare, then rolled his eyes downward and touched his mouth. "Oh…yeah…" He grinned sheepishly as he wiped the drool off of his chin with his sleeve. "Just a little catnap." He cleared his throat, wiped his eyes, and yawned, then stood up. "You good to go?"

Tom smiled and nodded. "Yeah…yeah…I'm good to go."

* * *

**Well, that's it! I can't believe I've been working on this for over a year. I honestly had no idea where it would all go when I started it, but somehow along the way I found out. I can't possibly express how much I appreciate each and every person who has taken the time to read and/or review this story! You have all inspired me and encouraged me to keep going, and without you I probably would have given up on it at some point.**

**It's so hard to end a story. I really hope that the ending was satisfying and that it befit the rest of the story. _Please _drop a review and let me know what you think about the ending, the whole thing, or whatever. It means a lot to me. :-) So, goodbye for now, and add me to your author alerts if you'd like to know when the next story goes up. It may be awhile, but I promise there will be one at some point.**


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